#he's always haunted by the wilderness and what happened out there and the people they left behind

[tonteriyoung]

travis martinez was a dumb traumatized teenage boy in the 90s stop villianizing him for some stupid shit he said literal days after his dad fell out of a plane in front of him goodbye

[thebirthofvenusfly]

okay but i like thinking about the events of ISAT/siffrin's struggles not as them going from a party of normal people with normal struggles to "everyone essentially now has to help Sif heal from That," but as, "everyone in the party has had their own immense, long-term struggles, and this happens to be Siffrin's." like, siffrin is not just a, "problem child," or the standalone outlier in terms of angst

here me out

[major ISAT spoilers, especially for acts 3-5 btw]

siffrin doesn't know all these things in act 1, but:

Odile has had a life-long struggle with identity. Her mother abandoned her family at a young age, her father (presumably heartbroken and betrayed) has never kept any mementos or photos or stories of her and likely avoided speaking of her at any and all opportunities. For the most part, Odile loves her culture but admits she was an outlier in Ka Bue and always stood out from the texture of her hair and eyebrows. She's tried to settle before for the peace of just letting it be, but after meeting that travelling merchant, she realizes how badly she does want to bridge that gap in her identity and has now spent years travelling--all only to find that it didn't quite fix her problem and she hasn't been able to find herself entirely in Vaugarde either. She doesn't dwell too much on her mother, but I feel there is a part of her that could never forgive the hole her mother left behind.

Mirabelle has similarly struggled, though in terms of religion and sexuality. She holds herself to a very high standard of Changing and being a, "good," Housemaiden, and has gone to great lengths to learn as much as she can in efforts to reinvent herself and Change, as she feels she, "should," do, because that's what Housemaidens and diligent followers of the House of Change, "should," do. She is so adamant about this that even prior to the game, even prior to the King's reign--which was several months-a full year before ISAT begins--she is forcing herself to look into relationships to potentially date, bond, and even have children with someone and she doesn't want to do any of that it. She is distraught because she doesn't want to change that aspect. She doesn't want to become what she's not, or try to force herself to feel things she doesn't and can't feel, but she isn't being a good Housemaiden or a good member of her society if she stagnates.

Bonnie's plight primarily comes in with the King's reign, which again, has been for a few months now. They live with their older sister who loves them and cares for them tirelessly, but she is taken by the King's Curse and frozen in time--an event which presumably happens in front of Bonnie, who is encouraged by their sister's last words to just run from the village as far as they can to safety. If that isn't terrifying enough, this leads to them wandering the wilderness for days, exhausted, dehydrated, presumably starved/ill-fed, and lonely, and likely scared out of their mind. Their only saving grace is Siffrin, who happens to find them and save them. The comfort they feel with Sif is called into question when they have to watch Siffrin take a permanent, debilitating injury to the eye to protect them. While the incident seems to roll off Siffrin's worries pretty seamlessly, this is a lot for Bonnie, who by now, has recognized a pattern of the people they love being permanently hurt or altered in some way all just to protect them. They're convinced they're a recurring problem, and after the death ritual talk in the House, has to prepare themselves for the haunting reality that they might really lose everyone they love (and, again, this is a lot. Especially for a child).

Isabeau has tried Changing before, and while it did help him make leaps and bounds, he is still in a constant struggle to love himself fully. Let's be honest here: Isabeau is easily the most emotionally put-together party member, and most equipped to handle the stresses of the party in terms of feelings. This does not make him immune, however, to his own negative feelings. He even cites as wanting to become someone that Siffrin wouldn't be, "ashamed," to know. He also mentions that he is remorseful of the new image he's given himself, as an air-headed, jock type of person, which often leads people into genuinely believing he's stupid and thus treating him that way. Not to mention, as the emotional mediator of the party, I'm sure he occasionally gets stretched thin between helping everyone else manage their problems and altercations.

all this is to say: everyone in the party has their problems, and a good sum of these are not all instantly solved by the end of the story. all of them, siffrin included, are left in a space where they have plenty of healing to do but can confidently and comfortably still rely on one another.

ISAT is just siffrin's chapter of major emotional plight, and everyone else's is presumed prior to the narrative (i can also acknowledge that siffrin definitely got the worst of it though LMAO)

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: A voice calls to you.

Author's Note: Set around two weeks after the ‘earthquake’ and is canon-compliant except there is no Eddie in 1986. This fic takes a couple of chapters to get going, so stay with me. I am SO excited about this, and I think you will love where it goes.

1986

The colony screeched and swooped, taking off into the inky dusk sky with graceless chaos. Each bat had stretched their wings and dropped from their forest dwelling to join the trilling and flapping. Only one remained.

He perched high in the treetops, an unwillingness to join the others that was not typical for a bat. Impossible for a bat, depending on who you asked. He observed the night grow darker with an entirely unnatural sense of understanding.

Eventually, he would fall from the branch and join the others in the hunt for moths and wasps, beetles and bugs. The hunger would drive him to it, yet the hunger could never be satisfied. It had been like that for one hundred and fifty years.

He was the oldest in the colony and couldn’t remember being young. He couldn’t remember reveling in warm nights or cicada season. He felt as if he had always haunted the forest and always would. He felt, and that was the problem.

The other bats did as all Eptesicus fuscus did. They were born into a colony around April and spent a month nursing from their mothers. The pups grew up, hibernated in the winter, mated, and bared the next generation, ultimately living a short life, just shy of a decade at best.

This bat did not. He did not hibernate alone or with others. When they found warmth and shelter in dilapidated buildings, under tree bark, or in caves, he remained a presence on the boughs of the forest’s tallest trees. He did not mate and did not father. He did not fly patterns across the sky while the town below slept. He ate to survive and continued to live well beyond his species’ dictated years. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He watched over Hawkins, Indiana for over a century. With each passing year, things would change. Slowly, the wilderness had been reduced to clusters of wooded areas by modernisation and industrialisation. It was becoming more and more common for the bats to come into contact with humans. A vast majority of the time, the people screamed and ran, terrified of disease or spooked by urban legends. Some marveled at the bats with respectful awe. Some tried and failed to catch the needle-teethed things for sport. Mostly, they were left alone to mind their own bat business, and mostly, that’s what the ageless bat did.

It wasn’t until mid-nineteenth century that the bat sensed a deep and profound shift. The Lab was built and the earth suffered. The bat had an ariel view and echolocation, but he couldn’t know what happened within the walls. Decades passed and the mystery continued. By 1983 though, he knew his kind wasn’t the only nightmare fuel in the woods.

1984. 1985. And, in 1986 the ground split open, spilling the Upside Down into Hawkins. An earthquake, reported the news. The sixth sense innate in all animals knew better Deers, birds, and bees all migrated out of pattern. The colony of bats entirely disappeared one night, having feared the vibrations pulsating from the cracks in the earth.

Only one remained, an unshakable and quite possibly magical force tethering him to Hawkins.

…

“That town is no place for a witch,” came the warning. “Something is still wrong with Hawkins. Can’t you sense it?”

Infamous in Indiana, Hawkins was the place where buildings burnt and people went missing with threefold outcome. One: they were never seen again. Two: returned, but at what cost? Three: bodies found, so disfigured by unseen violence that it was hard not to believe in monsters.

When the streets fell apart in 1986, sending part of the town down into hell, it would have been fair for Hawkins to lose what remained of their resolve. Yet, the town would go on to rebuild, and between the freshly poured concrete and funeral services, a battle was fought in secret.

“A doorway was opened. They may not claim victory,” came another warning with a beg to heed.

Yes, it would be the fight of their lives, but it wasn’t for a witch to interfere with. That was a hard line in the sand of magic that even you would not cross. They called him Vecna, but you had no name for him. His sorcery was not of the natural world. To let him know of yours would be to risk it all.

There was more to you than witchcraft, however. Hawkins was a town in crisis, and there was space for you to help and heal.

“It’s not just him,” cried a third and final warning. “The ground is consecrated,”

“That’s old superstition,” you dismissed.

“So is blood moon bad luck, but look what happened last time. And falling brooms, broken mirrors, and circles of salt. We are superstition. There are some places witches should not go.”

Your mind was set and your path clear. “Something is calling me there. Doesn’t that have meaning?”

“Not all callings are sanctified,”

“Do we fear holiness or not?” you asked. “I can’t walk consecrated ground but should only show devotion to the sanctified calls?”

There was no answer.

You sighed and softened your voice. “Look, I know you mean well. All you do is out of love. I know that. But, I need to do this. It’s… I don’t know… So real. The calling. It almost has a voice,”

“The timing,” was offered as a reminder.

The first time you felt something coming from Hawkins was when the quote unquote earthquake happened. A catastrophic event like that had to have more consequences than just Vecna, you thought. It could have shifted other magic and natural musings.

“I’ve made up my mind,” you stated with boldness beyond your rank in the coven.

“Are you so willing to discount lore?”

“Folklore. It’s 1986. I know witchcraft isn’t a science, but you have to give me more credit than that. We don’t have to listen to every whisper on the wind and take for gospel the tea leaves in our cups… Nuances, you know?”

Your eyes stayed closed and your hand gripped the pen tightly, waiting for a reply to be sprawled out on the page. When nothing more came, ‘Are you so willing to discount lore?’ the last words scribbled in a handwriting not your own, you breathed out hard.

Automatic writing took a lot of energy out of you, but it was the best method of speaking to The Witches Who Came Before. Reading back their psychographic warnings, you felt a small sense of guilt over defying them, but more than guilty, you felt empathy for a town so beaten by evil over and over.

Hawkins was calling.

…

Aid workers, distressed families, and reporters had flooded the small town, making it all the more easy for you to slip by the city limits unnoticed. Although you weren’t sure what should or could be noticing you, there was still a small exhale of relief when you didn’t burst into flames as you drove passed the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign.

The voice calling you to the town hadn’t been polite enough to give specific instructions. In lieu of directions or coordinates, you drove along roads that appeared to be out of the path of the earthquake, finding your way to a bar called The Hideaway.

Inside, patrons sat around watching their town on the news while staff rushed to cook food and package it up for the crisis centers.

“Bit of a wait on food, honey,” a waitress called to you.

“Just after a Coke.”

It seemed uncanny for a bar to be operational in the middle of an emergency, but it also befit a town so used to death. You took your can of Coke from the waitress, left a ten on the counter, and made your way around the tables to get to the noticeboard on the other side of the room.

Lost dogs. Swimming classes. Babysitters for hire. Then, your eyes landed on it.

1BR TRAILER. PARTLY FURNISHED. WATER/ELECTRICITY. NEEDS REPAIR. CHEAP. CALL: FOREST HILLS TRAILER PARK. 312-683-1192.

Maybe it had already been volunteered to home displaced people, but you trusted it was worth a shot. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?” you asked the waitress, walking to the bar and leaning on it. She nodded and dumped the old rotary phone in front of you.

After four rings, “Forest Hills,”

“Ah, hey. I saw your flyer. About the one-bedroom. Is that still available?”

The woman made a scoffing sound. “Apparently beggars can be choosers. Ain’t nothing wrong with that trailer but Red Cross said it ain’t fit for people. On account of the mold, they said.” Her voice was gravelly from a pack a day, but she didn’t sound unkind.

“I don’t mind mold,”

“Guess it’s available then.”

…

The bat had never known illness or injury. Whatever was killing the trees though, had touched him. He didn’t wither and die like other flora and fauna, but he wasn’t unscathed. It was as if he was burnt from the inside out, a mark on his feet spreading slowly but surely.

The sensation was unpleasant at first, but grew more noxious. His wings wouldn’t stretch their full span, and he could only glide small distances. The bat found a small patch of trees not yet turned to ash, settling in at the base of one, hiding under brush for warmth.

It was a fine place to die, if that should be his fate. He was where he belonged.

…

Forest Hills Trailer Park had been subdivided again and again; any spare patch of land was used for caravans and tents of people left homeless or those coming to watch the disaster unfold.

The one-bedroom trailer Michelle, manager of the park, gave you the keys to was indeed in need of repair. There were air vents that sat wide open, the outside cold seeping through. Dark mold grew in the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling. And the carpet should have been replaced years prior.

The very first thing you did once alone in your new home was ring a small bell you kept in your bag. Three shrill rings for good fortune. For everything else, you’d need supplies.

The local general stores would likely be low on stock, and the shopping mall had burnt down only a year ago. It stood in ruin, yet to be redeveloped. Before you ventured to the shops, you decided to take a short walk around Forest Hills and the surrounding land to see what could be foraged.

As you passed people, some looked you up and down, Satanic Panic clouding their perception of anyone they considered to be different from themselves, to be ‘other’ in any way. Some neighbours though, waved and offered a friendly greeting. “Michelle con you into that old trailer?” one asked, to which you politely faked a laugh.

Out beyond the trailers and RVs was a patch of land that seemed unaffected by everything happening in the town. The trees soundproofed the space, making it feel miles away from civilisation. While there wasn’t much in the way of edible mushrooms and plants, nor things needed for your craft, you sensed an undercurrent of magic there.

Crouching down, you picked up a golden leaf, twirling it between your fingers. Close, you thought, but didn’t know what it meant.

It was then you saw it out of the corner of your eyes. Something moved under the tree near you. Small. An animal. A rabbit, maybe? Rats or opossums or a trash-stealing raccoon?

Slowly, you sat down on the forest floor, cross-legged and facing the tree. You would wait until the animal revealed itself on its own terms.

The bat was so weak he could hardly move. He tried to hide away from the human that was watching him, but he couldn’t. When he resigned to his position, he let his vision focus on you.

You weren’t surprised to see the bat. The feeling was relief, like you’d found a missing thing. It was clear something was wrong with the creature though. “Do you need help?” you asked it.

Still slowly, you scooted closer to the bat. There were no obvious signs of injury. His brown fluffy body was free from blood or gore. Perhaps he had torn a wing or flown into a tree.

“I can help,” you whispered, holding a hand out flat to the ground. The tips of your fingers were close enough to the bat that he could bite if he wanted to, or he could shuffle forward into the softness of your hand.

Whatever compelled the bat to never leave Hawkins, compelled him to fall onto your palm.

“Hi,” you greeted, bringing your hand to your chest and holding the bat safely between your hands. “What’s happened?”

The bat was a common species; you recognised him as the aptly named big brown bat. His body was the size of a baseball, and some of his colouring was wrong. His legs and arms would normally be pink, but they were a sickly black colour. It looked like his brown fur was beginning to turn too.

“Did you eat something bad? Accidentally poison yourself?”

The bat, of course, did not answer your questions. You looked around the trees for other lost animals or any sign of something that may have caused your new friend to become sick. When there were no answers there either, you stood and took the both of you back to the trailer.

…

Destiny and a little folly may have led you to Forest Hills and the one-bedroom trailer, but you had come to Hawkins prepared nonetheless. In your car, there were supplies to ensure if you’d had to sleep there for a couple of nights, you could. The bat would benefit from your readiness.

The sleeping bag you’d packed was turned into a soft nest for him. “Alright, let’s get you warm,” you whispered, placing him in the middle. He shuffled on the spot for a few moments before settling, his brown eyes still watching you.

When you offered him a piece of banana, he nibbled at it.

When you gingerly stroked his fur, he let you.

Still, there was something about the way the bat watched you, something in his reaction to your movements. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but it was most definitely curious.

“Alright, my furry friend. We need provisions. Especially if there’s gonna be two of us.” You spoke to him as you pulled your jacket on and grabbed your bag. “Please be here when I get back. I promise I can help you.”

…

It was dark when you returned home. Stores were staying open late to receive interstate deliveries and provide goods to the in-need townspeople, so you managed to get most things on your list.

Inside the trailer was cold, the spring air outside not yet filtered with summer’s coming warmth. You checked on the bat, ensured he was still cosy in his nest. Then, you got to work.

After soap and scrubbing did its part and the mold was attacked with vinegar and bleach, you boarded up the vents and added repairing them properly to your to-do list. In the bedroom, the bed was covered in fresh linen while you dreamed of a brand new mattress.

The only other furniture in the so-called ‘partly furnished’ trailer was a couple of bar stools at the kitchen bench, a televisionless television stand, a couch in surprisingly good condition, and a coffee table that sat a little too low to the ground.

Next, you took a ritual learned from your sisters whilst in India and let milk and rice boil over on the stove for prosperity and abundance. From time spent in Lowcountry, you observed the practice of painting your porch blue. The trailer didn’t have a porch, but the doorframes would suffice. It would ward off evil spirits, as would the salt ring you ran around the home. Finally, mugwort and sweetgrass smudged through the space, cleansing and claiming it as your own.

By the time you were finished, it was almost midnight and your stomach growled obscenities. The bat had been nibbling on the fruit you’d offered, but you’d not eaten since the morning.

After two cups of noodles and a cup of white jasmine tea, you unpacked the small cat bed you’d purchased for the bat. You relocated him into it, still with the sleeping bag, and pushed it under your bed. He’d like it in the dark, you thought.

Skipping a shower, you changed into pajamas and got into bed. Sleep came quickly, perhaps quicker than it had in decades. You dreamt that night. Of darkness. Of blood. Of screaming. Nothing coherent, nothing recognisable. Just an ominous feeling that you were going to find what you were looking for, ready or not.

End Note: Reblogs and comments are so appreciated. Like I said, it will take a couple of chapters for you to fall in love, but I promise you will.

If you are interested in the witchcraft in the story, check out The Grimoire. It will be updated with each chapter!

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @amira0303 @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @stardustmunson @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

[ethanlandryshotwife]

All I wanted was you | Xavier T.

Summary: All Y/n wanted was Xavier.

pairings: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader

warnings: Cursing and like rude comments ig??? No smut u lil weirdos (I was reading smut like 2 minutes ago but whatever)

Enemies to lovers??

_____

I hate Xavier Thorpe.

I hate all the stupid things he says. All the unnecessary comments he makes. 

Sometimes I want to kiss him, but the other times I just want to bash his head into the fucking wall. 

Every guy that has tried to ask me out I rejected because of him, I only wanted him. He just won’t get what I’m trying to tell him. Most of my friends know about the feelings I’ve developed.

It’s stupid. I’m tired of acting like I hate him. When I don’t.

“What are you thinking about?” Xavier says from next to me. Right now we are in Ms. Thornhill's class. She gave us assigned seats and mine was next to Xavier's.

“Thinking of the best possible way I can kill you in your sleep and get away with it,” I reply to him. Snarky, like always.

“Aww, you’re thinking about me.” He teases. You don’t even know, Thorpe.

I chuckle in response.

If only I could get him out of my fucking head. It’s like I’m being haunted. “What plant is this?” Xavier asks shoving his paper in my face. Gosh, he is so stupid sometimes.

“It’s the bleeding heart, we have been learning about it this whole week, idiot,” I explained it to him. “How is learning about stupid ass plants going to help us in life anyway.” He remarked mostly talking with his hands.

I’ve always noticed that.

“It will help you if you decide to go out into the wilderness Mr.Thorpe.” Ms.Thornhill overhears from her desk “Now, do your work.” She adds then goes back to grading papers.

I quietly laugh. “Bitch.” He mutters.

____

“Let's go shopping for the Rave’n.” This is the sentence that brought me here watching Enid twirling around in her perfect white dress.

“Do you like it?” She asks, for the 100th time “Yea, its cute.” I reply. I’m not trying to be a bad friend or anything but I just don’t really care about the dress or the Rave’n overall, I don’t even think I’m going.

“You keep saying that!” She pouts like a child “Anyways, what are you going to wear?” She questions me. 

My PJs, then I’m getting into my bed and going to sleep.

“Um, I don’t think I’m going,” I answer honestly. I know she's going to freak out. “What do you mean!” She yells.

“I just don’t really feel like it this year Enid, I’m sorry.” I apologize. “Nope, you are going. Even if I have to drag you there with my own paws.” She threats. “Please don’t make me,” I beg already knowing where this is going.

2 minutes later I’m in a spaghetti strap white dress with a slit on the leg.(the photo is at the bottom, or Imagine whatever you want idgaf)

“Its perfect.” Enid squeals “we’re going to be the baddest looking bitches in the room.” She snickered. Oh lord save me.

____

“Put the heels on before I hit you.” Is what echoes off of my dorm walls right now.

currently, Enid is forcing me to put heels on. I promised myself I would fight back, but it wasn’t enough against Enid's wrath and her claws. 

I internally cried as I slipped on the white heels. “Gorgeous,” Enid says looking at both of us in the mirror. If only I felt it.

“My goal tonight is to make Ajax jealous,” Enid says. She has been mad at him ever since he stood her up and considering the way he talks about her something obviously happened.

“What is your goal?” She asks me. To stay away from Xavier as best as I can. “To sneak away when you’re not looking.” I answer causing her to giggle.

A knock on the door stops her giggling, “He’s here.” she squeals running to the door “Who?” I say. What is this girl planning? “Well, I found some people who didn’t have dates and.....” Enid trails. 

“What!” I yell. I wanted to go by myself, not with some horny teenage boy.

“Who are the ‘people’?” I ask her. It better not be some jackass.

“Kent and that guy from the pilgrim world.” She answers before I can say anything she opens the door. Just like she said Kent and Lucas are standing at the door. “Hey guys, we were just finishing up.” She says.

She set me up with Kent. He asked me how to spell ‘you’ last year. God, I’m going to kill her.

My heels click against the hard floor under me as I walk. “Let's go!” Enid squeals practically running down the hall. I try my best to catch up with her in these heels.

I almost fall over a few times but I managed to catch up with her at the doors. “Come on!” She says dragging me into the door leaving are dates. “Welcome to The Rave’n girls.” Ms.Thornhill says with a creepy welcoming smile.

“Let's go get some Yeti-tini.” She shouted over the loud music. She grabs my hand and we walk over to the stand. I end up bumping into someone while waiting for her to fill our cups.

“Sorry,” I say before I meet the eyes of the person. It was Xavier, in a white suit and his hair down like usual. (Kill that man bun it was triggering the first time I saw it.)

“You actually look good for once.” He says while looking at my outfit. For once? “Well, you kinda look like that old man from KFC,” I reply.

“Touché.” He snickers “Look who has been paying attention in french, I’m proud.” I say giving him a little clap “Only took me 2 days to learn, a new record.” He laughs.

I look next to me and Enid has disappeared. “You here with anyone?” He adds. So much for staying away from him tonight. “I mean I guess not, my supposed date is making out with someone right now.” I say pointing to Kenny making out with a girl I don’t know.

“What about you?” I ask “Not really I pissed her off and she ran.” he explains earning a hum from me. Who is his date?

“Want to dance?” He says changing the subject. I can’t dance for shit. “I don’t see why not.” I answer.

Unexpectedly he grabs my hand and leads me to the middle of the dance floor. Life just seems to love me right now because as soon as we hit the middle of the floor it turns into a slow song.

 “I’ve never slow danced in my life.” I tell him with panic on my face. “Just follow me.” He says as if we’re in some movie “People only say that in movies following you isn't helping shit.” I explain to him, I’m most likely going to bust my ass.

He starts laughing as I trip over my own foot “Shut up.” I say hitting him upside the head and making him laugh harder. I wish a hole would just swallow me whole right now.

“Do you just want to get out of here?” He asks.

“yea, but we better run before End attacks us.” I tell him he smiles in response. He takes my hand and leads me out of the dance.

Me and Xavier end up on the balcony that overlooks the quad. I usually hang out here when I’m not in the mood to hang out with my friends. 

Silence fills the air as we look over the balcony “You know I don’t actually hate you.” Xavier says out of nowhere. “I guess you’re okay.” I say sarcastically rolling my eyes causing Xavier to chuckle.

“The argument I got into with my date was about you.” Xavier confesses. “talking about me, eh?” I ask. I don't recall doing anything to Xavier or his date, I don’t think.

He laughs.

“I just felt like you needed to know.” He tells me “What did I do to start the argument?” I ask him. “You didn’t do anything, it’s my fault.” He answers.

“I’m so confused.” I giggle. Did I do something to his date? “She said I talked about you too much.” He says.

Oh.

“Can I do something?” He asks me “Go ahead, Mr.Thorpe.” I say. I don't know what I expected him to do, but it most certainly wasn't this.

Xavier gently put his lips on mine. It felt like finally eating food you have been carving for a long time.

Sadly Xavier pulled away to breathe. Our noses touching “I think I kinda like you.” He admits. “Kinda?” I ask.

If only you knew, Xavier.

____

Words;1,440

Taking request!

Damn this took all night my back hurts. Btw I apologize I was very bored so I wrote this, I’m begging you if I spelled something wrong tell me bc its so embarrassing. Anyways I think ima start a kill Xavier's man bun cult what do you think?

The dress and heels or whatever u want idc<3

[ang3l4lina]

one thing i really think is gonna happen is jeff dying, because (please don’t attack me for this) him and jackie have some similarities.

For starters, both Jackie and Jeff were very much at the top of the social hierarchy in school. The most popular boy and most popular girl have to be dating right??

In comparison to Shauna, the two seem to be the more light hearted, almost always the first to crack jokes.

Both seem a bit awkward, especially once the wilderness comes into play. When Jackie first arrives to the wilderness, she doesn’t fit in because she’s so used to the structure of society back home, she’s the queen of it. Now that she was no longer leader of the pack she fell apart. Not really similar with Jeff, but we see him deteriorate under the pressure of covering up the murders, we see how he is also not made for the wilderness as it comes back to haunt the group.

One parallel (idk if it is one or not bear with me) i can think of is Jackie prompting Shauna to wear the ‘boob’ dress and Jeff buying a dress for Shauna for the 25th anniversary. Shauna shows reluctance at wearing both of them. (Though Shauna does end up wearing the ‘boob’ dress and Jeff gets her a new one)

Another I can think of is the scene of Shauna hallucinating Jackie in her old bedroom, and later in the episode of Jeff in the car with Shauna.

(i think lvcygraybaird pointed this out, the creator of these gifs lmao)

Anyways, in short, I think Shauna is going to loose Jackie as she lost Jeff. What makes it worse is that Jeff is one of the only piece of Jackie Shauna has left.

I know A LOT of people don’t like Jeff because of the blackmailing but i honestly don’t mind him lol. pls don’t attack me for this take gorls xx

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 12

The sun slowly lowers behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange.

After Rick's heartbreaking words for Amy, I took refuge in a corner of the farm, away from curious eyes and the dangers that lurk outside.

My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and the setting sun only seems to amplify them.

Amy's death.

The memory of the young girl, with her wide eyes and pale face, haunts me.

She has seen too much, she has experienced too little.

I continually wonder what could have happened, what brought that walker so close to all of us.

And now I only feel fear, a fear that tightens my heart.

The fear of protecting.

It's a mixed feeling.

On one hand, I want to keep the people I love safe, but on the other, I know that every protective gesture carries a risk.

Amy's death is proof of this.

We tried to protect ourselves, all of us, relentlessly.

Nevertheless.

And then there's him in my thoughts.

Always.

As much as I want to ignore it, he is there.

Negan.

The man I loved and hated equally.

Before the apocalypse, he had been a different man.

He was good, sweet.

Now, he isn't anymore.

His soul has become darker, wilder.

I often wonder if deep down in his heart he is still him, if that sweet and altruistic man still exists, or if the horror of the world has simply transformed him.

Or maybe it transformed us both.

And then there was the pain.

The pain is always there.

The pain is linked to his name.

The pain is linked to his scent.

The pain is linked to his raspy voice.

The pain of having to run away from him, leaving him behind.

I had hoped that time and distance would dull that pain, but every night when I close my eyes, I still feel it.

I hear his voice.

I feel his caresses.

I still feel my love for him.

Every time it's like a fucking knife in my heart.

I hug my knees to my chest, looking blankly at the foliage of the trees moved by the wind, I watch the sun disappear completely behind the hills.

I know I still have a lot to face, but right now, I just want to let go of sadness and nostalgia.

The world has changed, and I with it.

I don't know if it's good or bad but I know I'm no longer the person I was.

Everything has changed in me, even the way I perceive the world.

I can no longer see its beauty.

Now every corner is covered in dark shadows, shadows that hide threats.

Nothing seems purer to me.

I would just like to go back and see the beauty.

That's all I ask.

Light footsteps behind me distract me from my thoughts.

I look over my shoulder and with his head down I see Carl come towards me.

“Hey, buddy.What's up?What are you doing, wandering around by yourself?It's starting to get dark, it's not safe” I ask trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

I lower my legs, crossing them and tapping my hand on the ground next to me, I invite the boy to keep me company.

Carl sits next to me and we are silent for a few minutes.

Small points of light begin to appear in the sky.

Another night in this broken world.

Carl sighs as he hugs his knees to his chest.

I give him a slight shove trying to catch his gaze with mine.

“Hey!You know you can talk to me” I whisper, focusing my attention on his small sad face.

I saw how he cried during Amy's funeral, he must be really upset.

His young mind, still too immature, is finding itself fighting against demons bigger than him.

No human being, let alone a child, should ever find themselves entangled in this shit.

“If… if I told you a secret could you promise not to tell my parents?”

Instinctively I would like to accept his plea but I know I can't.

His eyes, blue as the sea, focus on mine and he already knows that I won't be able to keep this promise.

The boy immediately lowers his gaze.

I dig in my mind looking for the most suitable words.

I raise my hand, bringing it to his head and taking off his father's hat.

I turning it between my fingers for a few seconds and then placing it on my head.

Carl looks at me and lets out a soft laugh.

I smile with him.

“I can't promise you but I can promise I'll help you, okay?”

My compromise seems to convince him.

He puts his hand in his pocket and after a few moments he takes out a gun which he hands to me with a trembling hand.

“I took it from Daryl's motorcycle.If he found out I took it, he'll kill me”

I turn the gun in my hands, returning my gaze to the boy.

“What are you doing with this?” I ask him trying to keep a calm tone.

I don't want to scare him or even scold him.

I just want to understand why he did it.

His behavior has been strange lately.

I saw very little of the sweet and kind little boy I was told about.

Instead, I saw a boy incite his father to kill another human being.

A boy who stole a gun for what reason only God knows.

“Amy” he whispers looking straight ahead, “It's my fault that she died”

For a moment I don't know what to answer.

Thousands of thoughts and scenarios chase each other in my mind but none of them guide me towards a plausible solution.

“Carl” I murmur, squeezing his shoulder with my hand, “Why would you say that, buddy.She got bit by a walker.Why you say…”

“I saw that walker” he interrupts me.

His eyes clouded by tears move from his hands towards the sky.

A single tear rolls down his face.

My heart breaks at his pain.

“I was gonna shoot it.It was stuck in the mud.I was…I was throwing rocks at it and stuff ” the boy sniffs, his eyes still turned to the sky, “But I was gonna do it…shoot it right in the head.And it…it got free, came after me and…I ran away” Carl sobs.

A little sob that rumbles in my head like thunder.

I wrap my arm around his slender shoulders, pressing my lips to the top of his head.

“If I had killed it, Amy would still be here” he adds, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

I drop the gun onto the grass next to me so I can hold this little man against my chest.

His tears wet my shirt but I couldn't care less.

Now my priority is his well-being.

“Carl, stop that.Please.This ain't your fault, okay?”

His arms close delicately around my hips while his back shakes with small jolts.

My right hand presses the back of his neck while the other slides delicately along his back, small caresses in an attempt to soothe his pain.

I let him vent everything he's been holding painfully inside trying to make him understand that I'm here for him.

I move away from the hug just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

I hold his face between my hands and with the tips of my thumbs I dry the tears that continue to flow relentlessly from his sweet red eyes.

“Listen to me Carl.As long as I'm around, I always protect you.Me, your father, your mother and everyone else will always protect you.What happened is not your fault.It could have happened to anyone and I swear to you, I swear to God, that I would have given my soul to be in your place, to not see you like this now”

His lower lip trembles and new tears slide down his face, still so young and innocent.

I stand up offering him a hand inviting him to stand up too.

He gets up hesitantly.

His eyes full of remorse and fear watch me as I bend down to pick up Daryl's gun and tuck it into the waistband of my jeans.

“I'll take care of this” I reassure him, giving him back his father's hat, “Don't worry about Daryl, I promise he won't tell you anything”

Carl smiles shyly but his smile fades as soon as he notices my serious look.

“And...I won't say anything to your mom but I will talk to Rick.Maybe I could convince him to teach you how to use it so that you can protect yourself if you were in danger and none of us were there with you”

At my words Carl takes a few steps back.

He shakes his head violently from side to side.

“I will never touch a gun again”

“You know this is not possible.As much as we all want to, we can't do it.We can't hide forever, Carl.We have to fight.You have to learn to fight.The world has changed and if we don't change with it...”

But the boy seems determined and, shaking his head again, he turns his back on me and walks away, leaving me perplexed.

I don't even try to stop him.

At this moment a storm beyond my understanding is stirring in his heart and it is not up to me to help him so with a heart full of worries I go in search of Rick.

Along my way, however, I spot Daryl.

He is sitting in front of a small fire, near what has now become our tent, while he smokes a cigarette.

I approach coming up behind him, surprised that he didn't hear me.

His hunter's hearing is always alert but at this moment his mind seems not to be there.

The surprise in my eyes is replaced by horror as I see him press the flaming tip of his cigarette into the flesh of his hand.

A barely audible hiss escapes his lips.

My eyes immediately fill with tears as my hand in a completely automatic gesture moves up my thigh, caressing the flesh through the hard fabric of my jeans.

I know what he's doing.

I know what he's feeling.

With extreme delicacy I place a hand on his shoulder.

The archer flinches violently.

The now consumed cigarette slips from his fingers.

Without speaking I stand in front of him and offer him my hand.

The man observes it for a few moments then his eyes lift up to find mine only for a moment then his gaze shift to the fire and in their reflection I can read the shame he feels at having been caught in a moment of weakness.

I try to impress in my gaze all the tenderness and all the understanding that I can find in my torn heart.

Daryl looks up again.

“I don't wan’ yer pity” he spits between his teeth.

I smile sadly.

It's not my pity I'm offering him and I want him to understand that.

“Take my hand, big boy” I murmur softly.

The tremble in my voice makes him look at my hand that is still outstretched and motionless in front of him.

After moments in which he doesn't stop studying my gaze he grabs my hand and lets himself be dragged away from the fire.

In the silence of the evening I drag him towards the tent, inviting him with my gaze to enter.

“Sit down, please”

The man obeys me as if in this moment he was devoid of any will.

Trusting me blindly.

And this does nothing but fill my heart with a sweet, almost forgotten feeling.

Trying to tame the nervousness that grips my guts, I grab the lamp and lit it on, positioning it near my feet so that it can illuminate my figure well.

I feel sweat beading on my forehead and with trembling hands I reach for the button on my jeans, open it and pull down the zip.

Daryl looks at me with panic in his eyes.

His pupils move quickly from one side of the tent to the other as he slides away from me, pressing his back against the wall of the tent behind him.

I sigh deeply, gathering all the courage I have and with a fluid and decisive movement I lower my jeans to my ankles.

The archer, taken aback by my gesture, turns his head to the side, bringing a hand in front of his face.

I can see the blush spreading from his neck.

“Wha’ the hell are ya doing, woman?” he hisses through his teeth.

His tense shoulders tell me that the man is very uncomfortable but that can't stop me.

It can't stop me.

He must know.

He has to understand that I can understand him.

That I know what he was doing and why.

“Daryl” I call him softly, “Please look at me”

My plea veiled with barely held back tears makes him move his large hand from his face.

His embarrassed cheeks are a stab to my heart.

Behind his tough exterior there is a shy man full of insecurities.

Slowly the archer's eyes reopen and with equally exhausting slowness they rest on my face.

“Look at me” I repeat, lowering my hand towards my thighs.

The tip of my finger instantly feels the unevenness of the skin beneath it sending a jolt of pain to my heart.

The memory is alive again.

His gaze follows my hand and the moment his eyes fall on my bare legs his expression changes.

Now he knows.

And I have never felt so naked in my life.

But this isn't physical nudity…

Daryl is seeing my soul.

My true soul.

He is seeing a part of me that no one knows.

Nobody.

His uncertain and cautious hand rests on my thigh.

His calloused fingers move feather-light over the old scars.

Lots of little cuts that adorn my skin like stars adorn the night sky.

I stare at the tent ceiling unable to hold his gaze as the words float painfully from my lips.

“I had no other way to vent my pain.I didn't want others to see my pain.This was the only part of my body that no one could ever see”

When the nights at the Sanctuary seemed endless and the pain was too excruciating, it seemed like the only possible solution.

Sitting on my bed, with my father's knife in my hands, I cut into the flesh of my thighs.

Every cut eased the pressure on my heart.

Every cut expanded my lungs as I felt suffocated.

Every cut made me feel alive.

Every cut silenced the voices screaming in my head.

The man's strong hands grip the flesh behind my thighs, just under the curve of my ass, his face buried between them.

But as intimate as it may seem, there is nothing sexual in his gesture.

Only sweetness and pain.

His lips touch every little scar starting from my knee to my right hip, near the elastic of my underwear.

I dig my hands into his hair, in that portion of skin the contact of his lips makes me hiss in pain.

The skin is still red there.

“This is the last one.I did it after I have killed that man down town” I admit, full of shame.

It had been a while since the last time.

But the desperation for my action brought me back to falling into my old and unhealthy habits.

Daryl grabs my jeans and gently lifts them up by buttoning them and zipping them up, then standing up he crushes me in his arms.

I bury my face in his chest cradling myself in his strong grip.

His scent soothing my soul.

“I know what you're feeling.I won't pretend to believe that thanks to me you won't do it again...but...but...I want you to know that I'm here with you.I'm here for you.I always have your back, big boy”

He hugs me even more forcefully.

His face is pressed against my neck, my hair is a dark curtain in which he hides his gaze which I know for a fact is as anguished as mine the moment I saw that cigarette sizzle against the flesh of his hand.

With a disarming delicacy his hands wrap themselves in a strong but gentle grip around my cheeks and immediately my lips are on his.

I don't know if it's the right thing to do but I know for a fact that words would be superfluous at this moment.

Gently we slide towards the ground.

His lips kiss every part of my face.

Reserving reverential attention to my lips.

His tongue slides velvety between my lips, colliding with mine, intertwining in a sensual dance, which smells of tobacco, which in its silence keeps solemn promises.

I am here.

You are here.

I'm your.

I'm yours.

Together we can.

My hands move to the back of his neck, scratching his skin.

His bold fingers grip the flesh of my hips, inviting me, with the weight of his powerful body, to lie beneath him.

In its will, my legs widen, allowing his narrow and sensual hips to find space between them and then wrap around his waist, pressing my ankles against his buttocks and involuntarily pushing him towards my pulsating core.

The contact of his bulge against my most sensitive part makes me pant in ecstasy and the man full of new audacity pushes his hips against mine again, earning another obscene moan from me.

His warm, sinful lips slide towards my collarbone as he tries to move the fabric covering my breasts with his hungry teeth.

His greed makes me chuckle and, helping him in his intent, I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it off my head, remaining in front of his eyes with only a simple black bra.

The worn fabric makes me blush thinking about how I am not such a sensual sight in the end but his words erase all my worries.

“So beautiful, ’ma sunshine” burying his face in the hollow between my breasts, his words sound almost like a growl.

He peppers my skin with sloppy kisses while his fingers creep under my back, arched with pleasure, searching for the hook of my bra.

As soon as he finds it he tugs on it trying to unhook it and when he succeeds a guttural sound scrapes his throat making me roll my eyes in ecstasy.

Always with the help of his teeth he lowers one strap and then the other without ever stopping kissing every new corner of exposed skin.

With a trembling hand, between anxiety and pleasure, I grab the bra and throw it behind me.

The look of wonder in Daryl's eyes sets me on fire.

And I swear I could cum here and now just because of the way his gaze burns on my skin.

I lift my hips looking for friction that will give me relief, trembling at the moment of the contact.

He envelops a breast in his large rough hand, massaging it delicately while he welcomes the turgid nipple between his wet and lustful lips.

His tongue swirls around it sending jolts of pure pleasure through every nerve endings in my body.

The moans rolling from my lips are now uncontrollable.

Unstoppable.

My hands move aimlessly as they wander along his broad back, curious fingers exploring unfamiliar skin that slowly find their way beneath the shirt that envelops that solid yet supple body.

Insecure but eager, I push the vest off his shoulders which slowly sags over my shirt which lies next to us.

But I feel like it's still not enough.

I want to feel the sensation of my skin against his.

With inexperienced fingers I undo the first button which slips unhindered from his buttonhole.

And I continue until my fingers graze the metal of his buckle's belt.

Daryl's mouth releases my nipple with a loud, wet pop, a long string of saliva stretching until it slides down his chin.

Raising my shoulders I push my face towards him, licking his neck, starting from the Adam's apple that bobs up and down as I pass, until I reach his chin, collecting the saliva that lies on it with a moan of sweet appreciation.

Daryl's lips capture mine again in a panting, lust-filled kiss.

Stroking the skin of his neck I can feel every vein under my fingers, veins where the blood pumps furiously.

My hands continue their way until they reach his shoulders.

When I try to slide his shirt along them the man stiffens, breaking the kiss.

His pupils are so dilated with pleasure that they almost completely swallow the blue but in all that chaos I can sense his panic.

“Hey” I whisper bringing my hands to his face again, gently caressing his tense features, “We can stop whenever you want” I whisper trying to regulate my breathing.

The archer seems conflicted.

In his eyes, in the hard lines of his jaw, something stirs.

“No.No.I just…” he murmurs almost embarrassed, “I want to take it” he whispers, shrugging his shoulders and putting the shirt back to cover them.

His request, which sounds like a small plea, shocks me but I accept it knowing that I could never do anything that could embarrass him.

I want Daryl to feel comfortable with me and I would never force him to do anything that would disturb his precarious balance.

“Alright.That's ok, babe” I smile sweetly kissing his forehead as I close a couple of buttons on his shirt covering his body.

Daryl nods once and then he kisses me again.

This time his lips are more delicate.

After exploring every cavity of my mouth he continues his way along the line of my jaw, moving down towards my neck and sucking forcefully on the delicate skin behind my ear.

“Daryl” I gasp, burying my hands in his hair.

In response he continues his sensual descent, kissing the incandescent skin of my body, in a long trail of lust that reaches my navel with unnerving slowness.

One last delicate kiss and then his eyes are back in mine, silently asking me for permission to go further.

And I cannot deny him that permission.

I nod, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip and lifting my hips to facilitate his movements.

Daryl, with a concentrated look, unbutton my jeans, sliding them down my legs.

His lips touch every millimeter of exposed skin.

His gestures are shy, full of exasperating sweetness.

I clumsily kick off my boots so he can completely slide off the jeans.

My chest rises and falls furiously as Daryl remains kneeling by my feet, completely still, staring at me.

I feel like my heart might explode in my chest.

The man I have in front of my eyes seems like a god painted by the most skilled of artists.

The dim light of the lamp creates seductive shadows on his face.

A few small scars cross it but my gaze is drawn inexorably towards the bulge in his pants.

His shaft presses angrily against the fabric of his jeans and my mouth salivates at the thought of having it inside me.

To be able to feel him.

Daryl reaching down grabs my ankle, lifting it and bringing it to his lips, leaving a delicate kiss on it.

His lips greedily travel up the calf until they reach the thigh where he dedicates all his attention to kissing every single scar.

His tongue explores everything that can be explored.

He lowers himself onto my body again, accompanying my leg with his hand and wrapping it around his hips.

And I let myself be manhandled.

His elbows rest on either side of my face as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine and then kisses my forehead.

“I have no idea wha’ the hell I'm doing, sunshine” he whispers, his embarrassed eyes in mine.

His hands gently move a few strands of hair away from my face.

And despite the excitement of the moment I can't help but smile sweetly at the man in front of me.

A man so strong and brave yet so lost.

“You're perfect, Daryl” I whisper, kissing him again.

With much more audacity I grab one of his hands, kissing the tip of each fingertips and then capture two of them between my lips, swirling my tongue around them.

He moans, a hollow, guttural sound rising from deep in his chest, his hips pressing into me again.

A shiver shakes him.

Now, free from my jeans, the friction of his shaft on my fold, still covered by the now soaked fabric of my panties is even more real.

Through his jeans I can perceive all of him…

And damn!

He looks so big.

With my eyes and mind in ecstasy I release his fingers from my lips and decisively guide his hand lower and lower, beyond the hem of my panties.

His hand is so warm...and so big that his palm can wrap my entire mound.

His digit slides along my wet fold and then it splits me open wetting in my arousals.

I cry out his name.

He grunts and slowly sinks his finger into me.

Moving slowly, almost fearfully, his thumb finds my clit and begins to caress it with small circular movements.

In response my hips lift to meet his too gentle movements, seeking something more.

Daryl grunts again, taking hold of my mouth and kissing me like his life depends on it.

“More, babe.Please more” I whine against his lips, rocking my hips.

The archer adds another finger, digging them both to the knuckles.

This time with more force.

His thumb moves more firmly against my little bundle of nerves, making me see little stars of white light behind my closed eyelids.

Daryl buries his face in the crook of my neck, almost roaring as his fingers pound into me forcefully, curving up and touching that magical spongy spot that can make my toes curl.

The leg around his waist tightens its grip, pressing the heel forcefully against his lower back while the other, which until a few seconds ago was resting on the hard ground, now lifts slightly in a spasm of pleasure.

I plant the sole of my foot on the ground to find a foothold to meet the almost furious push of the man's fingers which now work with precision and lust.

My fingers wrap around the wild, messy strands of his hair, pulling them forcefully from the root, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin of my neck.

Daryl is marking my skin mercilessly and the thought of the others seeing how much I belong to him pushes me even further towards the edge.

I try to stifle the scream of pleasure that erupts from my lips by burying my face in his hair.

“Please don't stop.Please.Right there, Daryl”

He lifts up, his stormy gaze passes along my face now distorted by pleasure, then moving to my breasts which continue to bounce with each thrust of his fingers and then finally stopping on my pussy.

His dilated pupils move quickly following the movement of his hand, watching as his fingers disappear inside me with each thrust, stealing one moan at a time until my throat is parched.

A pleasant sensation spreads in my lower abdomen, clouding all my logical thoughts.

My eyes roll inside my skull, closing again in a fog of pure enjoyment.

“Look at me, sunshine”

In that thick fog his voice brings me back to the surface and my eyes slowly open on his powerful figure.

The muscles of his abdomen contract as if spasms of pleasure were tearing at his very body.

His biceps swell with every movement as he furiously pumps his fingers into me.

A spark shines in his gaze and after a few moments his broad shoulders lower towards my core.

A light-as-air hand moves my panties to the side and the rustic, calloused touch of his thumb on my clit is replaced by something warmer.

More delicate.

His tongue.

The scream that rolls off my lips is impossible to stop.

“Oh fuck, babe” I moan loudly, digging my fingers into the sleeping bag beneath my body.

The archer's tongue moves divinely as if this man had done nothing else all his life.

Delicate and moist caresses that take me over the edge.

His velvety muscle moves on my clit as if he were writing his name adorning it with lustful squiggles.

And suddenly it's all too much.

His face buried between my thighs.

His fingers moving mercilessly inside me, pushing and arching, splitting me open.

Daryl eats me out like I'm the last meal of his life.

He is hungry.

Feral.

Hot, fucking hot.

My nails digging into the back of his neck pushing his face against my cunt, his skull crushed between the sweaty flesh of my thighs.

“Ya taste so fuckin’ good, sunshine”

His grunt reverberates through my body, plunging me into the abyss of pleasure.

A white heat explodes before my eyes...and the most overwhelming orgasm of my life envelops my body making me moan loudly, so loudly that Daryl lifts himself from the center of my thighs to calm my moans with his own lips.

His tongue deep in my mouth, making me savor my own pleasure, thus prolonging the last spasms of my climax and accompanying my trembling body back to reality.

Still panting and shocked, I find the strength to reopen my eyes, observing the statuesque body of the archer rise from his position only to lie down on my sweaty body.

His lips rest lightly on my breast, moving up my neck and then taking possession of my lips again.

I can feel his excitement.

A single thought echoes in my mind.

It's not enough, I want more.

The kiss becomes more and more heated.

My hands slide down his sides and then grip the buckle of his belt tightly.

“I need you” I pant against his jugular.

He groans in my hear, giving me goosebumps.

His hands reach mine, helping me to free him from the last obstacle that now separates our bodies.

Daryl puts the weight of his body on his arm so he can use his free hand to take off his jeans completely and I take the opportunity to take off my panties.

His lips find my neck, sucking on the skin and leaving yet another hickey.

The only sound in the tent is our strangled breathing.

Another moan slips from my lips as the archer positions his now naked body on top of mine.

His thick cock caresses my inner thighs and my body vibrates in anticipation.

Daryl hums against my skin.

I wrap my legs in a chokehold around his waist, my hands gripping his back finding purchase in his shirt.

I crush it between my fingers as yet another plea rolls from my lips.

“I want you, Daryl.I need you” I cry, my body shaking with pleasure.

He lets one arm slide under my head, like a pillow, while the other slides under my back, lifting me slightly.

Now the tip of his cock touches my labia and his hips slowly push towards mine.

Inches after inches his fat cock slips inside my cunt, the stretching is painfully pleasurable.

I moan, closing my eyes and pushing my head back against his hand.

He is so big I can feel my walls molding around him.

His breathing intensifies as he pushes towards me and when he bottoms out his body lowers, lying completely on mine.

I spread my legs even further to make room for him, the pain between them is palpable but the desire I have for this man manages to make me concentrate on other feelings.

The feeling of being split open by the man I love erases any pain, any discomfort.

The feeling of his heat on my bare skin.

The feeling of his warm breath on my neck.

Feeling him immersed in my body, fused together, makes my heartbeat faster between my legs.

Daryl remains still, his face buried in my neck and his shaky breath crashing against my ear.

I push my hips forward eager for him to start moving but Daryl remains still.

He seems almost paralyzed.

His back tense, the muscles in his arms contracted tightly.

Instantly all the neurons in my brain go on alert trying to figure out what's wrong.

The man's breathing becomes increasingly heavier while small spasms shake his back.

“Daryl?Everything is fine?" I breathe close to his ear.

In response he nods his head but continues to remain perfectly still.

I squirm beneath him, trying as hard as I can to catch his gaze but immediately after the hand that wraps around my back squeezes my flesh tightly.

Almost painfully.

“Could ya…could ya please stay still?” he exhales between clenched teeth.

Immediately my body freezes, my mind working quickly to make sense of his request.

“What…”

“’M fuckin’ trying to not cum like a fuckin’ teen” he interrupts me, lifting his head and pointing his wonderful blue eyes into mine.

His wild and disheveled hair, from how many times I've run my hands through it, falls messy and disheveled onto his face.

And I know I shouldn't, that I might offend him, but the laughter ringing in my chest leaves my lips before I can do anything to stop it.

My legs slip from his waist and wrap around his muscular thighs.

And no matter how hard Daryl tries to sulk, I see a little of that worry slipping from his eyes as one corner of his lips lifts, giving me that little amused grin that can make my heart stop.

With our bodies still intertwined and his masculinity buried in my body we find ourselves laughing.

Daryl brings both arms to the sides of my head, leaning on his elbows so his hands are free to caress my face.

My arms remain wrapped around his neck, my fingertips lazily stroking the hair that brushes the back of his neck.

And it is at this moment, in this very moment that everything makes sense.

The pain.

The fear.

The tears.

In the enveloping warmth of his embrace I feel the world slow down.

My hands tightening around my most precious treasure, every inch of skin against skin is a step towards a better life.

A life with fewer fears but many more hopes.

There is no need for words, my heart in sync with his speaks an older and deeper language.

It's as if time stands still, and all that matters is this moment.

My mind free from worries.

The outside world and its problems vanish.

He is my refuge, the safe harbor in which I can anchor myself.

The safe harbor that I am sure will protect me from every storm.

The peace I feel is like the silence of a windless night.

There are no storms, only calm and fears dissolve, and breathing becomes regular.

He is my shield against the chaos of the world out there.

The protection he offers me is like an impassable wall.

There is nothing that can hurt me while I am in his arms.

He is my warrior, ready to defend me from any threat.

He was built for this world.

And the joy?

Oh man, the joy.

It's like a love song in my chest.

Every heartbeat is a melody, and he is the only one who can play it.

I know this is my place, my destiny.

At this moment everything is perfect.

So, without the need for words, he holds me close to him.

And in his embrace, I find everything I have always looked for...deep love, without boundaries, without end.

The love that now shines in my eyes and presses against my lips, the words prisoner in my head...words too mature for a love that is still so immature.

Words too strong for a man still too weak for this too strong, devastating feeling of mine.

Deafening words that scream in my head, words that I swallow and put them in the depths of my soul.

Words that perhaps will never see the light of day but those words will always be intrinsic in my every gesture, in every caress, in every kiss.

In every embrace.

“That's ok, big boy.Take your time” I whisper against his lips curved in a sweet smile.

Smile that I treasure.

Smile that fills me with pride because I'm the only one who can have it.

A smile that I will jealously guard in my heart, imprinting it in the eyes of my memory.

Daryl kisses me and his hips move.

Slowly.

Gently.

By now the light in the lamp has stopped burning and the tent is shrouded in darkness, only the moonlight entering through the small cracks illuminates our bodies with silvery light.

The breaths intertwine, and my heart beats like the wings of a frightened bird.

There are just the two of us, two souls who have come closer with fear and desire.

His skin against mine is like silk, and every caress is a kiss without lips.

I feel the heat of his body burning against mine, his breathing deepening.

With each thrust the sweet melody of his breath crashes deliciously on my sweaty skin.

With each moan it is as if time expands, and each second lasts an eternity.

It's like opening a mysterious book, page after page.

I don't know what to expect, but I know that he is the key to that secret.

“Sunshine, ya're so tight.Shit!” breathes the archer with his lips pressed to my forehead.

As filthy as his words are, the sweetness and reverence with which he whispers them fills my heart with sweet devotion.

His every movement is a gift, every kiss a poem.

Daryl is capable of making me feel fragile and strong at the same time.

It's as if my body opened like a flower at the first ray of sunlight.

And he is the sun.

Confidence grows within me.

There are no more fears, just total abandonment.

When our bodies joined, it was like a love song.

There are no words, just moans and sighs.

A love song produced by our bodies.

I feel his heart beat in unison with mine through his chest pressed against mine.

Every thrust is a promise.

Daryl leverages his arms, lifting himself off my body.

His head falls forward, his chin almost touching his chest and a strangled moan between his parted lips.

Wonder pervades me.

It's like discovering a new universe.

Every sensation is amplified, every touch a miracle.

I close my eyes, digging my fingers into the firm flesh of his ass and let myself be carried away, like a leaf drifting on a river.

The archer's thrusts intensify, the sound of skin against skin echoes in my ears along with the blood rushing furiously beneath the surface.

My body is filled with tension while a sweet knot in my stomach prepares to spring.

Groaning, I raise myself on my elbows to look at the point where our bodies join.

Daryl's big, veiny cock sinks forcefully as his fingers dig into the flesh, leaving their imprint.

A couple more thrusts and I cum so hard that the scream gets stuck in my throat making me drown in my own pleasure.

My walls clenching rhythmically around him, milking him and making him suffocate in his own moans.

The archer, face flushed and his breathing ragged, pulls out in one sweet motion and grabbing his cock he strokes it a couple of times and then he cums.

Hot white ropes land on my stomach and breasts.

I fall back onto the sleeping bag in a daze without being able to take my eyes off the man kneeling between my thighs.

His muscular chest rises and falls furiously while his eyes remain glued to my body, observing me as a proud painter would observe his latest canvas.

Without speaking he runs a hand over his face, wiping the sweat with the back of his hand and then hovering over me he grabs one of his t-shirts using it to clean me up.

His hand moves with care and precision and once finished he lies down next to me, caging me in his arms.

In the silence of the night his hand lazily caresses my back, each caress leaving a trail of shivers behind it.

“Are ya cold?” he asks in a whisper, placing his lips on my forehead.

“A little bit” I reply pressing myself against his chest, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin.

Daryl grabs one of his shirts, placing it over our still naked bodies.

With my mind finally light and emptied, for the first time in time immemorial, I feel complete.

It's as if the world has found its balance.

My world has found its balance.

I found Daryl.

“Ya good?”

“Yeah”

“Sure?”

“Daryl, stop!” I giggle, propping myself up on one elbow and meeting his gaze, “You were perfect.Everything was perfect”

My smile seems to reassure him.

His blue eyes are two pools of serenity.

I scratch at his chest with my nails playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“Anyway…I came here for another reason although I'm not complaining about how things went” I chuckle making him chuckle too.

“Oh, really?” he teases me by pinching my side and making me laugh.

I fall back onto my back turning my head to the side.

Daryl lifts his arms to cross them behind his head, his relaxed gaze locked on mine.

“I have something for you” so I say, I turn my back on him and sit down to rummage through the pile of my clothes.

“Here” I say handing him his gun.

At first his confused gaze wanders between my face and the gun held in my hands, only a moment of confusion after which the man realizes.

“’S ’ma gun?”

I nod.

He sits down and grabs the weapon, in the meantime I take the opportunity to put on one of his t-shirts.

“Why do ya have it?”

“Now you have to promise me one thing”

His eyebrows raise suspiciously.

“Why?” he asks sceptically.

“Just promise me”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’!” he huffs in exasperation even though his lips are curled upwards.

I grab his brief from the floor and hand them to him and after he puts them on I sit on his lap.

His arms wrap around my hips and I kiss the tip of his nose.

“Carl took it.He asked me to give it back to you because he is afraid of you.So you won't tell him anything, okay?”

Daryl watches me curiously, I can hear the gears turning quickly in his head.

“Why?”

I sigh worried about that little guy.

“He's confused.He's just a scared little boy who wishes he were a man”

“And that's why he stole ’ma gun?”

I shake my head worriedly thinking back to the discussion I had with Carl shortly before.

“He feels guilty.Carl saw the walker who killed Amy”

Just saying the poor girl's name makes my throat tighten.

Daryl tightens his grip around my body, waiting patiently for me to pull me back together so I can tell him what happened.

“He says he saw it stuck in the mud.He wanted to shoot it but it freed itself and he, scared, ran away.Now he believes it's all his fault and that if he had shot it Amy would still be alive”

It's not his fault but ultimately I can understand him.

I would have thought the same thing too.

I would feel responsible too.

And I feel somehow responsible for all these people.

I feel compelled to protect the people who welcomed me with arms wide open.

I feel compelled to protect them not only from the outside world but also from their own pain.

It's all a fucking vicious circle of regret and guilt.

“Hey, listen ta me, ’ma little sunshine” whispers the archer, gently caressing my bare thigh, “None of us are to blame.The world has changed and the only thing we can really do is stay together.Help each other.Defend ourselves.Nothin’ more.Wha’ happened to Amy was inevitable.We can't change things.Ya can't protect everyone, Summer”

I know.

I am aware that I cannot protect everyone and yet I feel obliged to do so.

I can't fix everything but that will never stop me from trying even if it hurts me.

I sigh heartbrokenly as I rest my head against his chest, the slow, steady beat of his heart ringing in my ear like the sweetest of melodies.

His lips graze the crown of my head.

“Ya're too good for this world, sunshine”

I smile against the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you really think that?”

“Damn sure!”

I look up in search of his eyes, in search of the pity but that's not what I find.

In his gaze there is only sweetness, respect.

I grab one of his hands in mine, studying every curve, every little mark.

“You know” I murmur in a whisper, “Despite everything I do, I feel weak.I just wish I was stronger.More brave”

Daryl lets me vent by carefully observing my hands which with devotion continue to caress and venerate his large one.

“Ya're not weak.Ya already know wha’ I think ’bout ya”

I nod shyly raising my gaze, looking at this wonderful man from under my eyelashes.

His gaze is clear, relaxed and sincere.

All his defenses are down.

All his feelings exposed to me.

A shiver runs down my spine as his hand slowly moves down until it rests on my bare ass.

This time a mischievous smile curves his lips.

“No panties?”

I laugh throwing my head back

“Don't get any strange ideas, big boy.I'm just passing through” I announce, getting up from his lap and starting to pick up all my clothes scattered on the floor.

The archer's gaze doesn't let go of me even for a moment as I try to get dressed and not keep thinking about what just happened.

I sit next to him putting my boots on.

“I need to find Rick.I have to talk to him about Carl.I don't...”

“’M not screwing around with ya.Ya know, righ’?”

His words take me by surprise as I lace up my boots.

When I look for his gaze I find him intently staring straight ahead while nervously chewing on the corner of his thumb.

It is a tender and poignant scene at the same time.

The weight of his past has made him so vulnerable and so scared.

My soft big boy.

Life has not been kind to him, painful memories and invisible scars.

A pure heart that has learned to fear love.

A scared heart that is afraid to open up, to confide, to let someone enter his shattered world.

It's as if his heart were a wounded bird, unable to fly towards love.

His face is marked by the weight of a painful past, his eyes as deep as abysses hide secrets that only the night wind knows.

Words will never be enough so I make my decision.

I smile, even though he can't see me, and slowly get rid of my clothes again, the rustle of my clothes catches his attention and his eyes are finally on me again.

Soft and confused.

Left alone with his t-shirt on, I sit back on his lap, wrapping around his broad chest and burying my face in the crook of his neck.

His heart raging against mine, beating in unison.

“Do you know what?Rick can wait” I breathe against his throat, a light kiss where his Adam's apple bobs up and down.

“Here with you is where I want to be” I whisper, hugging him, “There is no other place in the world where I want to be”

Please comment, share and rate ❤️

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

Taglist ❤️

@celtic-crossbow @deansapplepie @daryldixmedown @duckybird101 @thebadbatch2022 @winterassassin1804

[bi-bats]

just barely holding back from sending you the entire list lmaooo. once again, feel free to pick and choose

1, 3, 5, 15, 24, 37, 42, 54, 77, 85, 100, 129, 131

Bean, my beloved. Hello dear thank you for always coming through 💖

A book that is close to your heart

Vicious by V.E. Schwab. If I had to pick a favorite book, it's probably this one. My original copy of this book is SO fucked up lmaoo

3. A stand-alone that you wish was a part of a series

OH Wilder Girls by Rory Power. What a phenomenal fucking book. It had an open ending that left me satisfied, but also really thinking about what was going to happen and wishing that I knew. I still think about this book and I read it like... four years ago?

5. Something in fiction that reads like poetry

THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR BY AMAL EL-MOHTAR AND MAX GLADSTONE HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCK I FUCKING LOVE THIS BOOK AND I HAVE FOR A LONG TIME AND ITS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BOOKS I'VE EVER READ I'M ABOUT TO READ IT FOR A FOURTH AND PROBABLY FIFTH TIME

15. A book rec you really enjoyed

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley!! This book has something for literally everyone, I'm actually in the process of re-reading it because I didn't know it was a part of a series when I first read it and my therapist keeps telling me that the way that she puts the overall plot of the series together is one of the most interesting things he's ever read

24. A book on your nightstand

The Cabinet by Un-Su Kim, The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin, The Martian by Andy Weir, Vicious by VE Schwab, I'll stop there because I'm not typing out like 20 titles for this and I wish I was joking

37. Your favorite heist book

I'm actually not entirely sure that this counts, but Anxious People by Frederick Backman. I have a bunch of heist books that I want to read, but I haven't gotten around to yet. This is one of my all time favorite recs though! I love Frederick Backman fr he's such a great author

42. A book that made you want to scream by the time you got to the end

Lost Boy by Christina Henry oh my god. Ohhhh my god. Oh my sweet lord. Everything by Christina Henry is phenomenal, but this one in particular fucked me up. This was one of those books that leaves you feeling raw and hollow at the end. It will stomp on you. It will shred your heart. It will be worth it.

54. A book with the best opening line

Poison for Breakfast by Lemony Snicket. The opening line is literally "This morning I ate poison for breakfast." Full disclosure, if you go into that book expecting a full plot, you won't enjoy it as much. It's really a very wandery story without much plot, but I had a good time and normally I hate stuff like that. There's just something that's really so lovely about Lemony Snicket's way of writing though. Also, the audiobook is narrated by Patrick Warburton my beloved

77. A book so useless that you could use it as a coaster

Those We Drown by Amy Goldsmith. This is the only book I've ever given a zero star rating to. I've never read fanfiction as bad as this book. This is comparable to my wattpad writing when I was 12. Maybe worse. I wouldn't even use it as a coaster, because I returned it.

85. Your favorite book about magical realism

Right now it's probably Even Though We Knew The End by C.L. Polk. This book was so beautiful, and so quick, and the vibes of it were absolutely impeccable. It's a queer, noir, magical realism murder mystery. It was also slightly devastating, but in a really beautiful, hopeful, satisfying way.

100. Your favorite gothic novel

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. This is one of my favorite books of all time, and it's definitely my favorite haunted house story of all time! The plot is just phenomenal and Shirley Jackson is SO incredible. Also it's far superior to The Haunting of Hill House (which she also wrote)

129. A book with beautiful prose

Gallant by V.E. Schwab. She couldn't just have one book on this list. She's my favorite author by FAR. I just. kdfharughu. I don't know how she does it. There are always SO many banger lines in her books. The way she writes is just so. SO. Idk man. If you like my stuff, read her stuff, she's such a huge inspiration to me.

131. Recommend any book you like!

A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers OR The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey. Literally any book by either of them is phenomenal, but those are two of my favorites! They do have VASTLY different vibes though. A psalm for the wild built is like. a solar-punk utopian book about happiness and existence and success not being defined externally. And the echo wife is like. a sci-fi character study of two (three?) horribly fucked up people and also murder and also becoming the thing you fear the most and losing your humanity and rguahrgur. They're both amazing books though!

book rec ask game

[cherrycursed]

police interview.

where  were  you  on  the  night  of  christopher  wilder’s  disappearance ?

a  big  part  of  her  wanted  to  tell  the  truth  ,  let  the  words  spill  out  that  she  was  right  there  ,  a  few  steps  away  as  he  plunged  into  the  waters  that  would  swallow  him  whole  .  she  had  never  seen  somebody  drown  …  well  ,  maybe  when  she  was  a  temporary  lifeguard  at  the  pool  and  a  little  kid  had  jumped  in  with  no  flotation  devices  .  but  when  that  had  happened  ,  there  had  been  flapping  ,  arms  moving  as  water  splashed  and  screaming  …  it  attracted  attention  .  she  had  always  thought  that  drowning  must  be  something  that  caused  a  commotion  but  chris  …  he  had  gone  under  the  water  as  if  he  belonged  there  .  when  the  depths  of  devils  lake  had  swallowed  him  ,  there  were  no  sounds  ,  no  screaming  …  no  arms  grabbing  into  air  or  water  .  he  was  just  gone  .  "  i  went  to  the  party  with  my  boyfriend  ,  kai  wilder  .  chris  was  there  too  but  he  didn't  ride  with  us  .  everybody  was  at  that  party  ,  "  she  didn't  like  thinking  about  it  ,  something  unpleasant  and  bitter  about  nostalgia  .  all  the  good  memories  for  her  were  tainted  by  the  bad  ,  the  horrible  …  the  ugly  .  she  twists  the  pen  in  her  hands  that  had  been  lame  on  the  table  atop  a  piece  of  empty  paper  .  "  then  some  of  us  went  down  to  the  lake  and  chris  came  too  …  we  were  drinking  and  doing  normal  teenage  stuff  …  "  including  a  game  of  dares  that  they  had  stupidly  never  mentioned  .

when  was  the  last  time  you  saw  christopher ?

she  knew  if  she  just  told  the  truth  she  could  put  an  end  to  this  search  ,  that  if  she  just  explained  the  horrible  accident  that  had  taken  place  then  she  could  be  free  of  the  deep  discomfort  she  felt  over  the  hope  of  others  .  she  was  angry  ,  bitter  ,  stubborn  ,  hopeless  but  she  wasn't  a  cruel  person  …  it  made  her  feel  sick  to  the  bottom  of  her  stomach  any  time  someone  suggested  he  was  alive  when  she  knew  he  was  deader  than  dead  ,  somewhere  at  the  bottom  of  a  body  of  water  .  the  image  of  how  she  pictured  him  had  been  haunting  her  since  the  night  of  the  alumni  evening  …  imagining  him  all  pale  and  bloated  ,  expressionless  and  gone  .  "  he  was  at  the  lake  with  us  .  he  was  talking  to  people  ,  laughing  and  joking  …  there  was  a  lot  going  on  ,  i  don't  know  who  he  was  talking  to  last  …  "  all  of  that  true  because  she  hadn't  been  paying  attention  then  but  she  definitely  had  when  he  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  lake  ,  that  signature  smile  on  his  lips  .

what  was  your  relationship  with  christopher ?

"  he  was  my  boyfriends  brother  ,  "  she's  able  to  say  that  one  fast  ,  the  relationship  something  she  had  been  accustomed  to  …  the  degree  of  separation  provided  by  it  ,  erasure  .  but  then  she  swallows  ,  "  but  he  was  also  my  friend  .  a  really  fucking  good  one  .  a  really  amazing  kid  ,  "  she  pauses  ,  "  he  should  still  be  here  right  now  .  "

[ruvviks]

❣️🗣️🌱👪🎢💬 for cassidy and/or vitali mayhaps? :-)

oc asks!

❣️ - What are their love languages?

cassidy's love languages are physical touch and quality time :^) he likes being close with people and spending time with them, doesn't even necessarily mean they have to talk the whole time because he will gladly sit in silence for hours and still have the time of his life

vitali's love languages are physical touch, words of affirmation and acts of service. it's interesting that as a fixer especially the last two are things he does (and receives in return from his mercs) basically on a daily basis; it's what makes him a good fixer and why his business runs smoothly and why his mercs actually like working for him :^) physical touch as reassurance is also a thing he's good at

🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking?

cassidy isn't too fond of social interactions in general and he has trouble with a lot of day-to-day interactions with for example a cashier in a store or a waiter taking his order. when he has a script to work with it goes a lot better, but the second the other person doesn't stick to it he will shut down a little bit. he's getting better at it but still has his bad days sometimes but that's ok :^) he's got plenty of people who can help him out with it nowadays

vitali is a lot better at it because of his history at arasaka and also having worked a lot of retail jobs himself. he regularly does mission debriefs with mercs and he has calls every single day with clients and potential sponsors and he's given entire speeches before in meetings, council gatherings as well as for his own mercs. he's very confident in his speaking abilities and since he's lived in night city all his life, there's not really a language barrier to struggle with either

🌱 - Do they have a green thumb or are they a plant killer?

cassidy loves plants and he's very good with them! always knows exactly how much sunlight and water they need and which spot in his apartment is best for a specific plant and such. he also talks to them a lot,, hasn't named all of them though. that would be too difficult to memorize since he's already named all his plushies

vitali is. decent. with plants. he's not great at keeping them alive but usually they do live for a while so he's not a plant killer either he just tends to forget about them easily, or he's too busy with work

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like?

cassidy's parents died when he was very young and by now he can barely even remember what they were like :( his adoptive father also died when he was 16 so he doesn't have any parental figures anymore and while he often wonders what it would be like if they were all still alive, he also can't think about it too much or he will get envious towards others who DO still have their parents in their lives

vitali's relationship with his parents is. complicated. if we're talking post broker fic however: he doesn't talk to his mother anymore. the damage nadya did to him his entire life is irreparable since she still refuses to see him as her son and she is still stubbornly holding on to the belief that vitali ruined her life. vitali IS however trying to restore his relationship with his father a little bit. even after everything that happened, he can see that nadya influenced a lot of matvey's decisions and he wants to give his father a chance now that nadya is no longer in the picture. we support divorce in this household

🎢 - Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

cassidy LOVES amusement parks but also gets easily overwhelmed by them so he doesn't go on many rides usually, but he likes anything with water a lot!! ferris wheel too. i don't know if that counts as an amusement park ride but it does to me. nothing beats a good ferris wheel

vitali enjoys amusement parks a regular amount but also gets motion sickness easily in the wilder rides :( he loves haunted houses though. prefers the ones where you can just sit in a cart that moves around but is willing to walk through something himself too. less likely to go in there with vincent and mikhail then though because they Will both try to jump on his back when startled

💬 - What are some filler/buffer words they use? (Like, um, etc.)

cassidy mostly just uses "um" and stretches it out longer if he needs more time to think or he simply stays quiet. on rare occasions he will try to keep talking instead but he stops making sense at some point because his inner dialogue and what's coming out of his mouth are mixing together and it's not going well

vitali tends to go for what sounds more like "eehh" and weaves it into his speech flawlessly so it sounds like he's tying it to the end of a word until he's found the next one. it flows so well that you usually don't even notice it :^) if his brain is lagging behind a lot then his speech will be a lot choppier and he will add "well" in there a lot

[babyitsmagic]

The Other Hunters

Talia trained with and got her powers from a group of hunters focused on dealing with the kinds of monsters that don't go away without magic. Not every hunter who trains with them gains allies or survives the process of getting their new abilities. These three managed to do both.

Booker Adams (he/him)

Before he knew about the supernatural, Booker lost his family in one of the most horrific hauntings any hunter had seen in decades. He's lucky to have made it out of that house alive. His wife and twin children? Not so lucky. He's been hunting ever since, dealing with whatever comes his way. His specialty is ghosts, but he'll handle anything he needs to handle. He's more protective of Jade than he should be. He's not much older than them, but part of him can't help but think of them as one of the kids he didn't get the chance to raise.

Jade Zhang (she/they)

Jade's a prime example of what happens when you don't walk the line with powers like these, when you let a little too much of your humanity slip. At this point, they're more monster than mortal, a little too feral, a little too vicious in their fights. She's still human enough that Booker and Amir haven't stepped in. They hope they never need to. Despite all of her viciousness, the thing they're best at is breaking curses. It was always the thing they wanted to learn most, considering it was a curse that killed the love of her life.

Amir (he/him)

Despite how close he actually is to Booker and Jade, Amir doesn't share much about his past. Not what creature pushed him into this life, not the person or people he lost to come here, not even his last name. It's not that he doesn't trust them. He trusts them both with his life, even if Jade is teetering close to an edge she won't come back from. But those are parts of himself that don't feel relevant anymore, a version of him that doesn't exist anymore. He wants to live in the present, banishing as many eldritch abominations back into the abyss as he possibly can before he gets killed or loses himself. Isn't that what they all want?

Talia isn't close with them, but she distrusts them slightly less than she does most other hunters. She knows that at least Booker and Amir have some sort of moral code. She remembers when Jade did, too. She'll work with them when she needs to. She's shared some of Wilder's supplies with them, even if she wouldn't share where they came from. She doesn't want to shoot them on sight or run in the other direction. Part of her is glad they've found this small family of theirs. Part of her is jealous she doesn't have her own.

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 8/2

Maybe the real summer was the friends we made along the way?

A Girl On The Shore Collected Edition HC -  Inio Asano

Eisner-nominated author, Inio Asano's A Girl on the Shore is now in a hardcover, collector's package! Koume Sato and Kosuke Isobe are two teenagers living in a sleepy Japanese seaside town. After getting used and dumped by her crush, the emotionally damaged Koume decides to start a relationship with Kosuke, without any emotions involved. However, they both soon discover that sex with no strings attached often leads to unexpected complications, not just for themselves but also the people around them.

Abe Sapien: The Drowning & Other Stories TP -  Mike Mignola, John Arcudi & Emi Lenox 

In the early 1980's, new B.P.R.D. agent Abe Sapien was set to retrieve the corpse of a powerful warlock off the coast of France. Abe quickly finds himself in a battle with a century old evil in the form of demonic monks. Mike Mignola and Jason Shawn Alexander's premiere Abe solo series sets the stage for a collection of tales tracing Abe's times both as an agent of the B.P.R.D., and delving into his long-hidden origins. A haunted lake, South American vampires, and a mad scientist seeking out man's missing link are chronicled here! This paperback omnibus edition collects Abe Sapien: The Drowning, The Devil Does Not Jest, and Lost Lives and Other Stories.

Amongst Us GN Vol 1 -  Shilin Huang

Veloce loves Blackbird. Blackbird loves Veloce. These two young women may have strange chemistry and seemingly nothing in common, but somehow, their offbeat relationship works. Join them for a dance through the city they call home as they satisfy Blackbird's sweet tooth and indulge Veloce in her attempts to understand fashion. In an alternate universe, this sorceress and assassin share a very different reality... but in this one, they're a modern couple who have built a life together- and they intend to enjoy it.

At The Flower Capital GN -  Rihito Takarai

Motoharu, second child and successor of the Tsujimura clinic, has always held his childhood friend, Akira Hazumi, close to his heart. Unfortunately, when Motoharu realized his affections towards Akira were more than just simply friendship, and confessed, their relationship became strained. Unable to reciprocate Motoharu's feelings, Akira turned him down, and they slowly grew apart from one another. Despite the ongoing tension between them, Motoharu still decides to enroll in the same university and department as Akira. However, it's not easy getting over the pain of being rejected, and Motoharu soon finds himself visiting Geishas in the middle of the night, in a desperate attempt to forget everything that happened.

Buffy The Last Vampire Slayer #1 (of 5) -  Casey Gilly, Oriol Roig & Ario Anindito

Thess is all grown up, having taken up the mantle as the new Slayer! But with new responsibilities comes new enemies, and a mysterious clan will do anything to get to her, even if it means using her friends as bait.

Class War TP -  Rob Williams, Trevor Hairsine, & Travel Foreman 

Love your country then rip it down! The critically-acclaimed indie superhero hit gets its own paperback collection for the first time! Beloved supersoldier, American, uncovers the dark truth behind The White House and burns the word 'Liar' into the forehead of The President on live TV. Now on the run with a rogue CIA agent, he intends to reveal everything he now knows to the world. Can his former teammates, the superteam Enola Gay, stop him?

Conan The Barbarian #1 -  Jim Zub, Roberto de la Torre, José Villarrubia & Dan Panosian

Years after the battle of Venarium, a weary CONAN returns to his homeland to seek rest and solitude. However, a mysterious scout rides in to warn the Cimmerians of an imminent threat on the march from the Pictish wilderness. Will CONAN and his new ally be able to hold off this new horde of invaders?

The Devil Is A Part-Timer Anthology GN - Satoshi Wagahara

The Devil King and his friends check out a wedding venue, buy swimsuits to work at the beach and...get marooned on a desert island?! This collection of original comic stories, drawn by a lineup of artists and fans of the series, collects episodes which may, or may not, have taken place during the main story!

EVE: Children Of The Moon TP -  Victor Lavalle, Jo Migyeong & Ario Anindito

Eve already saved the world once, embarking on a perilous quest to protect what remained of humanity after a deadly virus outbreak... but the story continues! Selene, a source of hope for the many children that flocked to her rest stop, resents Eve, Eve's sister, and Wexler. The conflict amongst them and the survivors is dire... even sowing the potential for civil war. But an A.I. with terrifying origins from deep beneath the sea brings new revelations about the threats they face... not only of earth, but beyond.

Fire & Ice #1 -  Bill Willingham, Leonardo Manco & Bill Sienkiewicz

More than four decades ago, two iconic creators came together to bring to the silver screen an amazing new world of magic and adventure. In their classic animated film Fire and Ice, legendary artist FRANK FRAZETTA and famed director RALPH BAKSHI crafted a unique vision of beauty and danger, of good versus evil, all cast against a hypnotic backdrop of savage prehistoric splendor. Now, at long last, this timeless vision is expanding into comics with the first new story to revisit Frazetta and Bakshi's remarkable realm since 1982! Before the fire waned and the ice spread across the world...before Teegra met Larn...before everything you know about the unforgettable animated movie came to be, there were the before times - times when evil might still be blunted, times when innocence was not yet lost. In Fire and Ice #1, acclaimed comics writer BILL WILLINGHAM (Fables, Legenderry) joins forces with artist LEONARDO MANCO (Hellstorm: Prince of Lies, Blaze of Glory) - making his triumphant return to comics - and a new legend is about to be born!

The Little Red Fish GN - James Moffitt & Bizhan Khodabandeh

An exquisite reimagining of the Iranian Revolution like you've never seen before. An aquatic reef held down by an oppressive regime of blood-thirsty heron struggles to rise up in this harrowing tale of self-discovery, heritage, and revolution. The Little Red Fish retraces the events of the Iranian Revolution portraying events from the perspective of those actually involved. Part historical text, part guerilla warfare, all political allegory, The Little Red Fish vividly captures an often overlooked part of history. Oh, and there's that magical orb thing...

Lupin The Third: Thick As Thieves Classic Collection HC Vol 1 -  Monkey Punch

Monkey Punch's immortal creations are among the most beloved characters of all time, from master thief Lupin III to his trusted sidekicks and tenacious rivals. Seven Seas is proud to present the follow-up to last year's hit Greatest Heists with this second "best of" release. Thick as Thieves is another curated collection of some of Monkey Punch's best stories and chapters of Lupin III from throughout the classic manga's history, featuring all-new translations in a beautiful oversized hardcover. Let this iconic manga steal your heart all over again!

Malcolm Kid & The Perfect Song GN - Austin Paramore & Sarah Bollinger

Debut creator Austin Paramore and artist Sarah Bollinger strike a chord in this humorous and heartfelt story about love, loss, legacy, and the music that ties them all together. What does the perfect song sound like? Normally, Malcolm Kid wouldn't give this type of question the time of day. As a straight-B student with a heart of copper, he is far more concerned with overcoming mediocrity than he is with achieving perfection. But that all changes when he stumbles across the LK-2000-a strange keyboard cursed with the soul of an old jazz musician. Malcolm soon learns that the only way to free this musician's soul is by performing the perfect song. With much hesitation, and the help of his lifelong friend January Young, Malcolm embarks on a musical journey across the city of New Bronzeville in the hopes of discovering the perfect song and finding himself as a musician along the way.

Mexikid GN -  Pedro Martin

A poignant, hilarious, and unforgettable graphic memoir about a Mexican-American boy's family and their adventure-filled road trip to bring their abuelito back from Mexico to live with them. Pedro Martin has grown up hearing stories about his abuelito-his legendary crime-fighting, grandfather who was once a part of the Mexican Revolution! But that doesn't mean Pedro is excited at the news that Abuelito is coming to live with their family. After all, Pedro has 8 brothers and sisters and the house is crowded enough! Still, Pedro piles into the Winnebago with his family for a road trip to Mexico to bring Abuelito home, and what follows is the trip of a lifetime, one filled with laughs and heartache. Along the way, Pedro finally connects with his abuelito and learns what it means to grow up and find his grito.

Neil Gaiman’s Hansel & Gretel SC -  Neil Gaiman & Lorenzo Mattotti

Bestselling author Neil Gaiman and fine artist Lorenzo Mattotti join forces to create Hansel and Gretel, a stunning book that's at once as familiar as a dream and as evocative as a nightmare. Mattotti's sweeping ink illustrations capture the terror and longing found in the classic Brothers Grimm fairy tale. Gaiman crafts an original text filled with his signature wit and pathos that is sure to become a favorite of readers everywhere, young and old.

Neptune GN Vol 1 Book 1 -  LEO

The Worlds of Aldebaran chronicle mankind's often difficult first steps on distant worlds. Full of fantastical alien life, human drama and believable science, it's a saga that will keep you gazing up at the stars in wonder. After three years of study and training, Marie is now officially a member of the UN Special Forces. But she's barely had time to celebrate her graduation that an extraordinary event forces her to leave for her first mission: an alien ship of unknown origin has just arrived in orbit of Earth. As no contact can be established with its crew, Marie and her team are sent to board the vessel and investigate.

The Pirate & The Porcelain Girl TP  -  Emily Riesbeck & NJ Barna

Our Flag Means Death gets a magical, sapphic twist in this swashbuckling young adult graphic novel adventure full of high-stakes adventure, fantastical creatures, and a swoony enemies-to-lovers romance. "I want to be beautiful. I want to be interesting. I want to be enough." That was Ferra Brickminder's prayer to win back the love of her life. And the gods answer-just not in the way she expected. After hoping for a miracle, Ferra instead watches her skin turn into delicate and dangerously breakable porcelain. Elsewhere, Brigantine de la Girona, a disgraced orc pirate captain, has her own problems. Penniless and banished from her home, Brig struggles to make ends meet with her crew as her only support. So, when a desperate Ferra enlists Brig to sail her across the Great Sea to her ex-girlfriend's home for a very handsome fee, Brig is happy to strike a deal. Pampered Ferra and tough-as-nails Brig quickly butt heads, bickering their way across the high seas, but as they encounter increasingly perilous obstacles-including the gods themselves-the two become reluctant allies... and maybe more.

Robotech: Rick Hunter #1 -  Brandon Easton, Simone Ragazzoni & Inhyuk Lee

After the devastating events of the Macross saga, RICK HUNTER must face an all new threat, along with the ghosts of his past when a Zentraedi splinter group attacks Yokohama, Rick is called to investigate! Piloting the new prototype YF-4 Veritech, Rick encounters old friends and new enemies, all while recounting the moments of his life that shaped most epic moments in the ROBOTECH universe!

The Sacrificers #1 -  Rick Remender, Max Fiumara & Dave McCaig 

Tomorrow is a harmonious paradise thanks to five families who make everything perfect...for the price of one child per household. Now, as that bill comes due, a son expected to give everything for a family that never loved him and an affluent daughter determined to destroy utopia must unite to end one generation's unnaturally protracted reign.

Saving Chupie GN -  Amparo Ortiz & Ronnie Garcia

Violeta Rubio only has one goal in mind for her first-ever trip to Puerto Rico: help Abuelita reopen her beloved restaurant, La Casita. After the destruction wrought by Huracán Maria, La Casita needs all the help it can get. The only problem is that Violeta's whole family thinks they can do it without her. Now Violeta doesn't have anyone to hang out with or anything to do. But when best friend duo Diego and Lorena need help capturing the rumored chupacabra, Violeta sees her chance to change all that. What she isn't expecting is to run straight into the beast! Only... he isn't as monstrous as everyone assumes. Sure, he's got some scales and spikes, big red eyes, and pointy fangs-but he's a totally puppy and loyal to a fault. Violeta must find a way keep Chupie hidden and convince her newfound friends that he isn't anything to be scared of. And if that isn't hard enough, a new threat lurks around the corner that is dead set on capturing Chupie for their own nefarious means. Will Violeta be able to save Chupie from the danger that surrounds them without sacrificing everything else in the process?

Slime Shop GN -  Karina Garcia, Kevin Panetta & Niki Smith

YouTube Slime Queen Karina Garcia teams up with writer Kevin Panetta and artist Niki Smith for a fun, colorful adventure that follows three friends as they run their own slime shop and the slimes who come alive to help them. Bailey, Sophia, and Jayden run the BSJ Slime Shop, but what the three slime makers don't know is that when they're not around, the slimes come to life! When the creators start shipping slimes off to who knows where, the slimes left at the shop start to worry that they're next. Even as Polly tries to convince her friends that everything is fine, Boris, a grumpy, green slime, starts taking things into his own hands. Then slimes start disappearing and suddenly the shop is full of zombie slimes. With half the shop zombified and the other half scared silly, Polly has no choice but to go on a quest, along with her friends Max and Karma, to discover the truth about the slimes being shipped off and find a way to save their friends before it's too late!

Team Trash: A Time Traveler’s Guide To Sustainability GN -  Kate Wheeler & Trent Huntington

Studious environmentalist Charlie is stuck with a science fair partner who seems like her complete opposite: Charlie wants to save the planet, and all Oliver wants is to doodle in his notebook. But when a mechanical mishap sends the two traveling back through time, they'll have to work as a team to return to the present day. In order for the time machine to send them back, the unlikely duo must gather data on recycling throughout the ages-from sustainable marketplaces in Edo Japan to garbage-gobbling pigs in 19th-century NYC. Yet the closer the team gets to the present day, the more that plastic presents a problem: they're running out of time. Harnessing their frustration over the daunting ecological future they've inherited, Charlie and Oliver discover the ways in which they can use their sustainability knowledge to return home and build a better earth.

Werewolf Jones & Sons Deluxe Summer Fun Annual HC -  Simon Hanselmann & Josh Pettinger

In the tradition of the British hardback annuals comes the Werewolf Jones & Sons Deluxe Summer Fun Annual! One hundred fun-filled pages of spoofs and goofs for the whole family to enjoy (no minors allowed)! Put together with lots of love by Simon Hanselmann and rising underground star Josh Pettinger (Goiter, Power Wash). Get ready for one of the hottest summers on record (not merely due to rising climate-based anomalies)!

Whatcha getting this week, Fantom Fam?

[hxlfcrxzy]

The End

It was a funny thing, how so many people could seem to disappear from somewhere within a very similar window of time, but it had happened again and Calamity was down a few faces.

Michael Fothergill, The Mad Wolf himself, lost in a crazed haze, unsure of himself more than normal, struggling after his conversations with Oberyn and Jaxon as to what he was willing to do to get what he wanted. As much as he thrived on senseless killing...when it was people he had grown close to, it hit differently, but proving himself to the person who had taken him so completely, whose own trust the Mad Wolf had shattered remained at odds with everything else. So Mike did what he always did, ignored his responsibilities and the consequences of his actions and ran. He just ran, as he always did, sights on the next functional state where he could start anew. His own pack. His own life. But even a twisted mind has memories, and those he left behind in Calamity haunt his mind, for reasons both good and bad.

Another to leave the state, although for reasons less selfish, was Cardelle Mackie. No one could be quite sure just how long ago the Mackie disappeared, but with the vampires hunt for him heating up, and both his family and friends in constant danger because of him, the wilderness surrounding the state proved to be the best bet. From here he could keep mobile and keep hidden, using his hunter skills to their best use, picking off rogue demons and rogue vampires not affiliated with any group to slowly whittle down the pool of enemies the humans would continually have to endure. Part of him hopes he’ll find Asher out here, or Bram, maybe both? A team of three would be better than a team of one.

Lan Darqen however, did not fare as well. The Invidias took off to his secret compound, in the dead of night as he always did, the intention to kill and take the souls of all his followers, bringing him back up to his full strength, to return and show Azagi exactly what he thought of her escapades with Jakoris and Azarius. The beating was going to be extraordinary. But Lan never made it to the compound, never got the opportunity to reach his old levels of strength. It seemed that the people he had collected had others that had been looking for them, hunting teams from various other states all out to find their friends, and stumbling upon the one demon that had them. The fight wasn’t even that spectacular, Lan being taken out with relative ease without any kind of advantage, his body fading away into nothing. No blaze of glory, no monument to him...just a nameless demon to these people, and nobody back in Calamity would even know, or really care, that he was dead. Properly.

At the very least, Dodger could now sleep easy, knowing that Lan no longer had it in for him, but it seemed the Letharger’s path was preoccupied with other things. His search for Lennel remained unsuccessful, but the means he had taken to assist in that endeavour left their dark mark on him. Does this mean Dodger is evil now? No, not at all, but after years of being bottom of the demons food chain he’s finally realising that he needs to take action when he can to remain comfortable. Luckily, his sin allows him this, stealing the energy from humans he wanders across to keep himself going. He will find Lenn, and when he does, he can finally sleep again.

The enigma surrounding Fox Lucero seems to have shattered within the state of Calamity, and as per routine, not that he would admit to it, Fox decided to move on, to other settlements, other areas and other states where he can bring forth his brand of chaos once again. Somewhere his new guinea pigs don’t know what to expect, somewhere cryptic clues attached to drained corpses are something new and something to be feared. As with the last time, and the time before, and the time before, his name is changed, Fox Lucero is an alias only for Calamity, and he shall never been seen again. The only thing that remains is the suited figure in the darkness, with science on his mind, murder in his eye, and a trail of bodies all deemed failures in his wake.

For Raoul Darcy, it seemed things had been going too smoothly, after finally gaining some control over his magic, feeling like he was making more progress by simply being around Esme than he had in years. He was making friends. He was building relationships. And then one night, coming home from Beserkers, something hits across the back of his head and he blackout. Upon waking, he’s bound, head covered, unsure where he is or what exactly is going on, his magic going crazy sending crimson electrical bursts but they do nothing to help free him. As far as Raoul is aware, his mother has found him again, and is taking him back to the coven, intent on punishing him for escaping her grasp. His current status remains unknown.

And finally, Ricardo Juarez, little Ricochet as his older brother used to call him, the older brother he had come back at the request of, and yet had not had the opportunity to see him. At least he’d seen Octavia, put her worried mind at ease...hugged her for the first time ever he supposed. She seemed in a better place after the fiasco with the wolf, and he had promised to remain by her side. The same with Peyton, he had sworn to her face he wouldn’t leave again, the promise of dinner waiting after a long arduous fight between the Mer and the Demons, but it seemed the Royals he served had other ideas. Their orders were simple: go back to the kingdom they had sent him too initially, as his return to Calamity had been unauthorised. It’s broken his heart having to leave Peyton again, even more so to leave Octavia, but he knows one days, when all the fighting is done, he can return home and be with all of them again, peacefully.

[koboldshowdotheyunionise]

Worldbuilding: Characters: Simon Belfare, First and last Emperor

Simon Belfare was born as a commoner in the City of Vara, however his magical potential having been discovered at a young age, spent the largest part of his time growing up under the guidance of one of Varas free mages. Though at this point there were only free mages. This should change with his first rise to power hoewever, becoming a founding member of what would become the Empires Mage Order. At the start , they were only a band of magicly gifted mercenarys, achieving remarkable success being employed by the Ordeal Dynastie ruling over the Realm at this point. This would change when the Ordeal Emperor begun to fear the growing power of the Order . A inside coup left Simon without control over his own organisation, powerless for the first time in his life and on the run from the very Empire he had served until now. What exactly happened in the next few years and months is not entirely documented but those who knew him can attest that the man that entered the wilderness on the run... and the man that returned from the north at the head of a army were two very different people. In truth, the man that the Empire should later almost deify was a very flawed individual. Driven by reckless ambition and lording his gift over others, leading more through fear and power then any sort of respect. That was the man who was cast out from his own Order. The man who almost a year later returned from the north however had changed. Gathering around him the very people he had once hunted with his order, retaking control of the order and challenging the very rule he had, until then, supported. No longer leading through fear but figthing side by side with his men, using his abilities to protect and shield them wherever possible. But still there would always be a sort of shadow looming over him. Pushing his men to make remarkable progress but always more as if their leader was a hunted animal, fearing it would run out of time before it could secure a hideout. Haunted by something he had seen or learned far in the frozen wastes . He had met the seers of the ice nomads living out there that much was certain, as he had emerged carrying their symbols and weapons when returning, even the new banner he was now using, the sigil of eagle and lion, having been a gift. But he would never share with anyone what exactly he had learned from them and was hautning him now. Instead, as stellar as his rise to power was, so short would it be in turn. Only a few years after conquering the imperial capital in his rebellion Simon would disappear. Without any fanfare, any ritual or any plans for his succession. It is said only one man accompanied him on this last journey, at least for a while, Ordt, his second in command and propably closest friend. But even he was turned away at some point, forced to return to the capital leaving the would be Emperor to travel on alone. To where and with what goal remains unknown however.

Almost 500 years later now, within the crumbling walls of the Empire he had founded, there are now whispers of his return. While unlikely ,as even a mage of Simons Power is far from immortal , its certainly not impossible and if true then the first Emperor of the Belfare Dynastie migth be able to reunite the fractured realm,one more time. To lead it against whatever darkness he had forseen so many years ago. Or serve both as its first and as its last Ruler.

[magicveiled]

@thefvrious asked: ‘ you did a bad thing for a good reason. ’ from cameron to carter

"Won't be the first time. Certainly won't be the last." At least he hadn't killed the person. "Believe me, if I wanted the man dead, he'd be dead. Alas, best not draw any more attention to ourselves than we already have by breaking-and-entering."

Killing had always been a...complicated subject with Carter. Years of advanced education regarding biology, intense lectures about the anatomy of the human body, how it works, how it thrives, how it withers, plus his near life long training in the art of war and combat have all shaped his mind in a way that most people could not possibly comprehend should he try to explain his past to them.

He did not take pleasure in what he considered to be the ultimate, absolute last resort. But he has killed before. And the memories still haunt him from time to time to this day. He did not cry the first time, unlike Michael had, when they were tasked with hunting down an animal from the wilderness surrounding their community and prepping it to be eaten. They were both only eleven at the time this event had occurred.

Carter still remembered the gut-wrenching stillness that had taken over his body when the shot rang out, nearly deafening him even while wearing his ear protectant gear. He still vividly remember how the fresh blood looked upon his white skin, staining his long slender fingers. He remembered the smell, of the deer being pulled apart, cut, sliced, and dressed. The raw iron-esque odor that filled his lungs as it's organs were being pulled from the opening in it's perfectly rounded belly. Michael had cried hysterically and had even dared to run off into the household despite the angered protests from his father.

Carter had just stood there and watched the whole thing happen. And before long, he was no more than a phantom in his own body, watching his hands work as he aided his own father in preparing the animal for what would be their dinner later that evening. Much like how he acts to this day when tasked with taking a life. Human, animal, demon, monster; it was all the same in the end. A task. A job. A responsibility. A means to an end. A last resort. There was no time for sentimentality or mourning the loss of the dead when it comes down to either your survival, or theirs.

via rp meme : random dialogue sentence starters

[shammah8]

IDENTIFY THE SOURCE When I was growing up, I was quite a rambunctious child, to say the least. I couldn’t sit still for five minutes. I would often be outside playing with sticks or climbing trees. My siblings always laughed about my adventures and antics. In fact, they still laugh about them today!

Sometimes I would shadowbox in the house or outdoors. When you shadowbox, you swing at an imaginary person, so you’re essentially punching the air. Sometimes boxers use this method to train, but I would do it to release pent-up energy. What I want to emphasize is that a shadowboxer’s opponent is invisible. Yet, even though they are swinging at an opponent who only exists in their minds, they are still expending time and exerting energy.

In a similar way, countless people are exhausted from a spiritual fight that they cannot seem to win because they have yet to identify where the battle comes from. Many believers do not realize that what they are fighting against is actually in their own minds or imaginations. They are essentially engaged in spiritual shadowboxing.

If we allow him to, the enemy uses our experiences, traumas, and circumstances to plant thoughts and suggestions in our minds, thereby constructing demonic strongholds. Each additional thought becomes a brick in the fortress that Satan attempts to build to house his hordes of hell, haunting and tormenting people from within.

These are spiritual attacks by familiar spirits whose goal is to bring about perpetual condemnation, alienation, and isolation.

This is one of the reasons why many Christians deal with depression. The enemy attacks their minds and emotions, which give way to a spirit of despair and even death. This statement is by no means a trivialization of depression; many people have suffered the devastation of mania and depression, but I believe that there are spiritual root causes to such conditions, and I also believe there is a way out.

During my first year in ministry, a feeling of despair came over me.

This feeling was inexplicable because God was doing great things in my life; there should not have been a reason to despair. I did not realize that this was a demonic attack. One of the ways you know that you are under a demonic attack is that there is incongruence between your circumstances and how you actually feel. If you suddenly feel like giving up on life or that no one loves you, this is an indication that you are being afflicted by familiar spirits.

In my case, I literally despaired of life. I wondered if God had even called me. It was only through revelation from the Lord that I recognized I was dealing with a spirit of despair, as well as a Jezebel spirit. God opened my eyes to what I, as well as many other church leaders, had unknowingly experienced. To better understand how this happens, let’s look at an example from the life of the prophet Elijah, who was afflicted by the same spirit:

And Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and withal how he had slain all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, So let the gods do to me, and more also, if I make not your life as the life of one of them by tomorrow about this time. And when he saw that, he arose, and went for his life, and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there. But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a juniper tree: and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers. (1 Kings 19:1–4) Elijah had been attacked by a spirit of oppression and depression.

The Bible says that he “requested for himself that he might die.” You know it is pretty bad when you ask God to take your life! This attack was in the form of a word curse (a form of witchcraft) spoken from the mouth of Queen Jezebel. Can you imagine a powerful prophet who had just experienced a major victory running from Jezebel and having suicidal thoughts and prayers? As irrational as this episode in Elijah’s life may seem, such a reaction is a very common occurrence in the lives of millions of people. Witchcraft attacks the mind, producing feelings of despair, hopelessness, rejection, and suicide.

We must learn to recognize that such thoughts are indeed demonic.

The beautiful aspect is that once you have identified the source of the attack, you can take authority over the demonic spirits. When you have a revelation of who you are in Christ and your authority as a believer, you can sever ties with familiar spirits that have been assigned to you and have been attacking you unceasingly. Friends, we must tear down these demonic strongholds!

[opalmagines]

Super sorry to bother but I just wanted to stop by and ask, could I maybe get ace, David, Bill, Jeff, Dwight and Jake and their s/o somehow escaping the entities realm and going to their s/os original time and how they'd react to that and react to being able ti live life normally?? I hope this wasn't to much to ask! Thank you so much!

NO NOT TOO MUCH AT ALL I ADORE THIS.

Ace:

Even before all of this happened, he wasn’t used to stability. 

He was used to high-rolling, high risk living, and he liked it that way.

But when he came back, all he wanted was normal. 

Predictability went from something he hated to something he craved.

Something you provided.

He found joy in the everyday moments, the fact that your bliss would never again be interrupted by a trial, by the Entity’s merciless grasp. 

You made sure to make new little routines for him to look forward to, too. 

Making meals for him, showing him little bits of affection like clockwork, and more than anything, time to spend together. 

Because the nightmares, the flashbacks, the pain never came when he was with you. 

Even when they did, he never let it show. 

You tried to let it slide, he never was one to be open about his feelings, but it got hard. 

It felt like whenever you brought it up, it was you who took a gamble.

Thankfully though, he always seemed to appreciate how much you cared.

And that made it worth every moment. 

David

Unsurprisingly, he lashed out at first.

He was angry at the world, angry at the scars the damn thing left on his body, angry at the nightmares that haunted him.

But he was never angry at you. 

You cooled off his temper, a walking reminder that he didn’t need to fight to survive anymore.

And when David let go of that fight, it broke your heart every time.

He’d soften like that only around you, sheepishly confessing how he really felt in the fog.

“It was terrifying,” and “I thought I was going to die,” and “Bloody hell, I think I did die.” 

You just ground him in any way he lets you, usually a small but soothing touch. 

He leaned into it like it was his only tether to calm and to the safety of the world

Considering his mental state, you wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.

When he was in the fog, he was never vulnerable enough to show his fear.

With you, he didn’t have to be angry anymore.

Bill

It was hard for him to grasp that the fight was really over when he came back. 

He was still jumpy, shaky, quick to stir

Just like he was when he got back from the war. 

You remember how patient, how steady you were with him after that

Those skills come in handy now. 

He admits it’s strange to let someone look after him instead of protecting everyone else.

“It’s good to be cared about after doing so much caring.”

You take it in stride. Bill was a protector, and even though he’d just gotten out of hell, you had no doubts that he’d taken those instincts there with him

So you’re not surprised when the nightmares are never about him.

He calls other names, names he doesn’t talk about when he’s awake. Names of people who “didn’t deserve this,” toward killers who should “take me instead.” 

As much as it tears at your heart to hear, you never mention it.

You just stand as silent and steady support, always ready to offer a loving and understanding presence when it’s called for. 

Just like he always did for those caught with him. 

Jeff

He secludes himself when he comes back.

He paints almost all the time, not leaving his work area for days on end at times. 

It worries you, more than you care to say. 

You try and help, setting food outside the door and leaving encouraging notes, but all you get is the occasional quiet thank you. 

When he finally lets you into his workshop, your heart breaks.

His art is darker than it was before, filled with blood and screaming and the biggest meat hooks you’ve ever seen. 

It genuinely horrifies you, even though you try not to let onto it. 

Jeff’s sensitive, though. He notices quickly. 

He tries to explain, but he doesn’t even get through the first painting when he finally lets you see him break down. 

You hold him, right there on the floor of his workshop and try to provide him with comfort. 

You look over the walls while he’s on the floor, but your stomach twists in knots.

You weren’t sure what he went through for those long years, but you were sure of one thing. 

He’d have you. He’d always have you.

Dwight

It took a while for him to get used to feeling small again.

He tells you about how much of a leader he used to be, how important they all found him, and if you weren’t mistaken the tone he takes is almost fond. 

You’d have every reason to think it was not too bad of a time.

That is, if it weren’t for the other comments. 

He’d try to downplay them whenever he let one slip, saying “it wasn’t that bad” or “I’m here now, aren’t I.” 

But you saw the fear in his eyes.

You say how haunted he looked.

You saw how badly it hurt him. 

So you try and support him, even when he plays it off, even when he tries to stop it. 

Because Dwight hated it when people worried about him. It used to be because it wasn’t worth the time but now it was because he forgot what it felt like.

When he admits it to you, you take his face in his hands and smile.

“You are worth my worry, Dwight. It’s because I love you.” 

Jake

He almost never goes inside when he gets back.

The forest feels like home, he says, reminds him that there are no boundaries anymore. 

No limits

No imprisonment. 

You follow him, because he always seems a little lighter when you do. 

His smiles are wider, his laughs are louder, he just seems more like Jake.

And shit, you’d do anything to get that Jake back. 

He never even mentioned what happened to him. 

There were only quiet mornings after silently dealt with nightmares, mornings you could only grin and bear and try to support him through. 

He was thankful. Even if he never really showed it.

Jake was always quiet, but his quiet times were louder now.

There was horror in his still face, a somber story to be told behind his silent eyes.

But he wasn’t ready. 

You weren’t sure you were, either.

So, you simply stayed together. 

Quiet and firm, facing the wilderness.